Petals and Chains
by The Brother Anton
Summary: REUPLOAD; AU Sequel to Arrows and Thorns A shocking revelation has resulted in Souichi's capture, and tensions steadily grow more heated between the Morinaga brothers. As the bandit's past unravels before the prince's eyes, he grows desperate to save his love from the looming threat of execution.
1. Chapter 1

Snow drifted down from the night sky, but after passing through the tension that hung in the air, very few flakes survived long enough to reach the ground.

Though a muzzle covered my mouth and chains shackled my appendages, my eyes weren't restrained. The full extent of my glare for the last ten minutes had been directed at the damned Metsudanian king, and his gaze, while subdued a bit, replicated the emotion in my own. How did he recognize me just by hearing my name? It'd been _seven years_ since that day—he had to have only been twenty at the most back then! And he wasn't even there until after I'd escaped! Well...attempted to, anyway. Was he there the second time? Fog interfered with my memory. That and the smoke arising from the fires of anger currently burning across my mentality. If I wouldn't be cut down or shot down instantly, I'd knock his skull in as far in as it could go.

This shouldn't be happening; _none of this_ should've been happening. Fucking Kurokawa...he'd be the next to go after the king. Tomoe would be upset, but he'd get over it eventually. He'd find out sooner or later that this... _disgusting traitor_ was nothing more than that—a disgusting traitor.

And then there was _him._

Though they weren't necessarily close to one another, out of the corner of my eye I could catch at least part of the Prince Tetsuhiro Morinaga, who I'd been keeping locked away for the past two months or so after capturing him. His features and disposition—especially right now—appeared innocent, but upon encountering a few experiences with him in those two or so months, I'd learned that those qualities were intensely deceptive. His mind was a dark mess of sickness and lust—or 'love.' as he'd lied. But even if that was true, his countenance now was one of genuine surprise.

"He's...the Silver Assassin?"

Silver Assassin? Why silver? My hair was light blonde, and I'd killed the former king with an arrow, not a knife. And why such a lavish name? I wasn't something out of a kid's legend. Was 'the king's assassin' not good enough? Gods, people were stupid.

Morinaga's older brother nodded. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize him sooner. Weren't you there whenever we visited him?"

All the King of Bastardom received in return was a stare. "I don't...I don't remember…" His gaze shifted to me. "I don't think I've seen him before…"

"Of course you don't remember," the king muttered. "Odd, since you're usually attentive at minor things." He stepped toward me, and though it just came out as garbled nonsense, I proceeded to insult him as I'd done before.

A kick to my back silenced me for at least a moment. "Stop that," someone spat.

"Fuck you!" I yelled, though he just kicked me again. Fucking muzzle…

"This is definitely him. Though he does look just a bit different, there's no mistaking it." His eyes shifted, and presumably he directed his orders to someone behind me. "Restrain him a little more before you move him. Even if he seems secure now, and though he doesn't look it, he's explosive and dangerous."

Damn right, I was. But I wasn't stupid. Besides, if anymore chains were added, I wouldn't be able to walk, and I doubted they'd carry me. Not that I wanted them to, but, again, people were stupid. Did it run in Morinaga's family?

He turned to the one who I'd drawn that question from. "You'll travel with me." This time, to the entire clearing, "Unless you're a member of my personal guard, vacate this area immediately. Who knows what could be lurking in these woods?"

He put far too much faith in my men. He wasn't stupid at this point—no, he'd graduated to a downright imbecile at this point. But in this situation, he was an imbecile that had complete control over how my life played out. Though already I knew exactly how it would play out, I wouldn't show him any fear. Even if that was all that resided in my heart as someone pulled me up from behind and forced me to walk.


	2. Chapter 2

I wanted to hold him. I wanted to run up to him and hold him and never let go. I wanted to shield him from harm, to guard him from danger, to protect him from the evils of this all-too-cruel world. Undoubtedly he would've attacked me. But that didn't matter. Nor did his threats, nor screams, nor protests. I still wanted to hold him.

Kunihiro was lying. He had to be. There was no way that Souichi could be the Silver Assassin. There was just no way…

"suhiro...Tetsuhiro...Tetsuhiro!"

I jolted and whipped my head toward Kunihiro. "Y-Yes?"

"What're you waiting for? We have to go now if we want to make it back in a reasonable amount of time."

 _But what if I don't want to leave?_ Asking that would be foolish, even if it was the truth. He'd probably just scoff and tell me to stop joking. He always did.

Even though I took a few steps toward Kunihiro, my eyes still lingered on our parents' supposed assassin. I couldn't tell if he returned my gaze or not. Probably not. He was most likely either glaring at Kunihiro or staring at his feet. More than just metal muzzled his mouth at the moment, leading me to the conclusion that it was the latter.

"Tetsuhiro, you're walking if you don't hurry."

With a wince I tore myself away from Souichi and followed my older brother into the carriage he'd taken to get here. The exterior was austere; smart, considering that wealthy-looking caravans had a higher chance of getting robbed than average ones. Though in this forest, no one was safe.

For the first hour of our ride, everything was silent. Partially because of my depression, but more so because he and I were never able to hold conversations longer than three sentences. Even as young children we rarely associated. Our personalities were extremely different, after all. He was serious, I was carefree; he was cold, I was loving; he was dull, I was interesting; he saw the negative side of things, I saw the positive. The only things we had in common were our parents and our inability to find love, though for different reasons. But now, of course, that wasn't true anymore. Even if Souichi didn't return my feelings, I still loved him. I loved him so much that I was tempted to fight Kunihiro until he decided to let him go. But that wouldn't happen. Even if we were brothers, he was still king, and he could have me executed or exiled whenever he wanted.

"So it's been a few years," I started. "He, ah...what exactly...why did he kill our parents?"

"He didn't. Just Father."

"Ah, right. Well, anyway, was there a reason, or…?"

Kunihiro's countenance turned thoughtful. "Hmm...most of the details weren't there, since he didn't say much during interrogation. Based on what we did get out of him, though, he claims that he didn't do it willingly. Though I can't see why or how he could do it accidentally, since he wasn't a servant or soldier before the assassination. I think he was just bitter about poverty and killed him in a fit of rage. He seems like the kind of person who would do that, considering what we just saw." Kunihiro glanced at me. "Did he ever try to kill you, Tetsuhiro?"

I didn't reply right away. If I did, and if I was honest, he'd be tortured before Kunihiro would...punish him for his prior offenses. "No. Just threatened to."

"How often?"

"Very often. But they were empty threats."

Kunihiro nodded. "So what was he like?"

"Huh? What do you mean? His personality?"

He shook his head. "I know enough about his personality. He's violent, dangerous, and conniving."

 _And sweet,_ I thought. _And adorable. And loving of his family. And outspoken. And beautiful…_

"Tetsuhiro?"

I jumped a bit and turned his way. "Sorry. I got, uh...distracted. What is it you want to know?"

"As a leader, how is he?"

How _was_ he as a leader? It didn't seem like he spoke highly of his men, but he did radiate strength and power. Thinking back to the first time we met—the day of my abduction—he was assertive and commanding, and his men seemed fearful but at least a bit respectful toward him.

"Well...I was in a cell for most of my time there, so I didn't get to see much of it. But I saw him interact with his group during the abduction, and they seemed to respect him." Hurriedly I added, "But if you're concerned about if they'll come to retrieve him, I don't think so. They're respectful, but it's a fearful respect. In all honesty, I think they're happier with him gone. He seemed to be extremely critical of them."

Kunihiro made a thoughtful noise. "Was there anyone who doesn't fit that? Any loyal friends or supporters?"

"No, I'm doubtful of there being either. Not many would willingly spend time with him." It was a bit harsh of a statement, but it was true. I was a bit surprised whenever I'd started to develop feelings for him, too. But there was something about his violence that was...charming. Though I was more allured by his slightly-revealed mysterious past than anything else…

"So there's no one else to worry about capturing?"

I shook my head. "None that I'm aware of."

"And you're not just saying that to protect others?"

"Huh?"

Kunihiro crossed one leg over the other and stared at me with a look that said, 'Be honest.' "You have a tendency to protect others by lying about or omitting certain things. Even if those people are dangerous or criminal, such as that thing we're taking back with us. So tell me the truth, Tetsuhiro: are you just saying that to protect those people?"

"Of course I'm not!" I denied. "Why would I protect them? They kept me in squalor for nearly two months!" Though maybe I could've let something slip about Isogai. He _was_ technically the reason why this was all happening. And he'd blackmailed Souichi...I almost wished that he was here, just so I could yell at him. Or hit him. Or both. Probably both, possibly at the same time.

"You don't have to shout," he said. "You're not a child. I see that you're sincere, though. so I won't question anything else." He attempted a smile. "You're starting to mature a little. Keep that up and you return may not be so bad." In a bitter mumble he added, "Even after the disgrace you caused me…"

I stared at him. What the hell—why now? "Still haven't forgiven me for that, have you?"

"It's not an easy thing to forgive you for. Especially after we'd started to search for potential marriage options for you."

He made it sound so cold and businesslike that it made my insides hurt. "And what if I don't want that?"

"Well, you might not have to worry about it now, considering that word's already spread throughout Metsudan and Reinorok about your...interests."

I glared for a brief moment before glancing away. It'd been less than five minutes in here with him and already he'd brought up my sexuality. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Lovely occasion.

That acerbic string of thoughts faded to concern when I remembered something I'd been meaning to ask him. "And the prisoner?"

"What about him?"

"What'll happen to him?"

"Execution. Didn't I already tell you?"

"Not that. Before that. Where'll he go, what'll you do to him—that sort of thing."

"Oh, I see. Well, it's nothing that you should be concerned about. You're not a torturing type, after all."

I flinched. "H-How badly?"

"I don't want to make you cry or vomit. He'll get what he deserves."

But he didn't deserve that! "Can I see him?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Uh, well...to...taunt him."

Kunihiro scoffed. "You don't taunt people. You're too kind. I know what you're trying to do."

"What am I trying to do?"

"Comfort him, like you do with everyone. You've done it for years. I know you, Tetsuhiro. I'm not going to let you associate with the prisoner when we get back."

He couldn't stop me. I had only a bit less authority than he did. I'd find a way to see Souichi. Even if I'd have to kill someone to do it. Well, maybe that last one was a bit of an exaggeration. But I would see my love. Somehow.

* * *

Knowledge of an event celebrating my return awaited us when we returned to where I formerly called home, though it wouldn't start until the night after I'd set foot in my bedroom. By the time we'd returned home it'd been nearly six in the morning. Good time made, since usually it took about half a day to reach the palace from where we were, and it was around midnight when we'd left. Then again, Kunihiro and I had gone ahead and taken a few backroads.

I'd occupied this space all of my life, save for infancy. Yet the golden walls, massive four-post bed, and various paintings and sculptures decorating the space failed to tug at my heart at all. Even as I pulled off my poor excuses for clothes and filled the tub with warm water—I hated having servants do things that I could do easily—nothing changed. Even as I sank into that warm water and cleaned all traces of grime and oil from my body, I still felt out of place and hollow. Though that bath _was_ relieving; my hair lightened about two shades, and the water darkened about three.

I knew I should've been happy. Hell, I should've been bouncing from wall to wall and singing praises to the gods. But that wasn't anything close to an option. Not when I didn't know where he was. Not when he was scheduled to be executed sometime in the future. Not when he'd have to suffer torturous conditions and treatment before then.

Preferring a towel to actual clothes, I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands fisted in my hair, staring at the floor. It didn't matter if it'd only been a few hours; worry's tiny but harsh claws tore into me and shredded my heart into pieces. Ten minutes...that's all I wanted—all I _needed_. Just enough time for _him_ to tell me what had happened seven years ago. Kunihiro was biased. Souichi was, too, but at least he'd provide me with information that Kunihiro couldn't. Information that could be used in his favor—

No, Tetsuhiro! That'd do nothing to help him! Kunihiro wouldn't let him go, regardless of what happened, regardless of what Souichi claimed. Because that's what it'd seem like: a claim. Not the truth. This is why I hated being royal; worry's claws were so much sharper when they attacked us as opposed to a commoner.

"Please let him be all right," I whispered. "I don't want him to suffer…"


	3. Chapter 3

By the time I awoke the sun already stood vigil at the highest point in the sky. It took all the effort I possessed to drag myself out of bed, drag formal clothes onto my body, and drag my feet through the various hallways that led to the throne room. On the way there I encountered many of our servants, all of whom expressed great relief at my safe return. I replied as kindly as I could, though I felt as if I could jump out a window and not feel any pain when I hit the ground. Some caused more numbness than others, as most of the past lovers I'd had were servants.

When I stood before the double doors leading to where my brother and undoubtedly an ungodly amount of nobles awaited me, I felt the strong urge to run. I wanted to find Souichi. I probably could, too. Most of the guards would be in attendance for whatever reason Kunihiro had wanted me to come here, so the dungeon would most likely be undefended...and they might chalk up my lateness to just oversleeping…

No, but it'd be suspicious even if I could probably count on oversleeping. I'd wait until sometime tonight, when security was a bit more lax. For now, though, pointless ceremonies awaited me. So I pushed open the doors and stepped into the throne room.

A smaller count than I'd expected, roughly twenty nobles sat on either side of the aisle running down the center of the room. All heads turned to me when I entered, some disapproving, others alight with happiness. I knew most of their faces but few of their names. A few more past lovers here and there, though mostly they either looked away or stared with expressionless looks.

Clad in all levels of kingly attire, my older brother rose from the golden throne and met my gaze. I held the look, but it wasn't willingly. I still wanted to run. But that'd look bad and suspicious.

With leaden feet I strode down the aisle and stopped at the dais. As was customary, I knelt before Kunihiro. That way whatever he said would 'fly above my head' rather than 'going to my head.' A form of respect, essentially. Usually I disliked this, since we were brothers, but at this point it was relieving. This way no one had to see the pain on my face.

"I see already that you've discovered the nature of my inviting you here," Kunihiro said to the audience of nobles. "To my and many others' relief, my brother has finally returned home. The nature of his disappearance eluded us for quite some time. Sentries scoured forests throughout Metsudan and Reinorok in search of him, but we could find no trace. After a month of searching, we began looking for a body. Yet again, however, to no avail.

"However, when the search reached its second month, we received a message from a forest sentry, who had heard it from a bandit, that he was being harbored by a bandit ring. Originally I doubted this, thinking that it was just a ploy to allow the sentry and bandit a reward. So we had the sentry as well as the bandit he'd received the information from come here in order to question them. Their stories matched, and the names they'd mentioned were specific enough, so I questioned the leader of the ring the bandit was from. After a bit of persuasion, he agreed to my plan to retrieve Prince Tetsuhiro.

"So myself and a sizeable number of the royal guard, as well as a collection of sentries traveled to the forest where the bandits hiding my brother lived. Just as the other bandit had said, the second ring's leader showed up, surprisingly without any protection, with Prince Tetsuhiro in chains. But to both my and everyone else's surprise, that bandit leader wasn't just a random face. No, it was a familiar one."

I couldn't tell if the murmur that had overtaken the crowd spoke of Kunihiro's words or my body suddenly tensing.

"The one who had held my brother captive for two months was none other than Souichi Tatsumi, a name some of you may recognize as the 'Silver Assassin.' The very assassin who murdered the former king and our father seven years ago. Despite his vulgar insults and beastly shouts, we successfully apprehended him and brought him back here with us. Currently he's held in the dungeon, where he'll stay until the day he is executed."

My body tensed further. Heat stung my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep any tears from leaking out. I needed to find him. I needed to see him at least once before he...left me forever.

The rest of Kunihiro's speech fell on deaf ears. Or, at least, my ears went deaf. I only listened again when he told me to rise and face the crowd, which I did with intense sickness rolling like unsteady waves through my stomach. I wanted to run. I wanted to bolt out of the room and into the dungeon. I'd dig my way through the floors with a spoon if I had to. I _needed_ to see him.

"The celebration in honor of my brother's safe return will commence this night and will continue until tomorrow's end. It will be hosted in the palace, as well as throughout the city. In the meantime, I allow you all to leave and make preparations for the festivities."

* * *

After he'd been distracted by a set of nobles, I managed to slip away from Kunihiro and out of the ballroom entirely. Gods, this was exhausting. I appreciated what Kunihiro was doing for me, but overall I didn't need these two days of celebration. I needed sleep. Sleep and seclusion, both for at least two days. Maybe longer. Probably longer. I doubted this sickness would pass any time soon.

When was the execution, anyway? I didn't remember Kunihiro ever telling me. Knowing him, he'd probably want it out of the way soon. That way he could focus on other matters that he deemed more important.

Politics and profit over the value of human life—a reality that was all too true. I hated it. I hated all of this. Everything that being royal entailed made me want to vomit; sometimes I did. Even if I was in a cell for most of the time, when I had been with Souichi, I never felt better. I disliked crime more than I disliked politics, but his life did appeal to me. All the freedom and fun that came along with being a commoner...criminal or not, I would've been jealous of him.

Perhaps there would be a second execution that day.

What felt like hours of aimless wandering later, I leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. Did anyone notice that I was gone? Probably. While Kunihiro was a caterpillar, I'd been compared to a butterfly. Now I wanted to strangle my past self for ever being so social. I didn't want friends; I wanted _him_. But instead, there was silence. Silence and emptiness.

My eyes widened; silence and emptiness!

There was no one in this hallway with me now. The rest were probably just as vacant, and even if others did roam the halls with me, they were probably too drunk to see anything. Finally—a chance!

Rejuvenated by this hope, I practically sprinted down the spiral staircase that led to the underground levels. At one point in the past the catacombs beneath the palace resembled the city streets above, but repeated rat infestations—currently downscaled but still unpleasant—deterred servants for fear of disease. Most of the catacombs were walled, but a few still remained. The few that led to the cells—and the torture chambers. But those hadn't been used in decades. Souichi wouldn't be in there...right?

Shaking my head to rid it of the gruesome thoughts taking shape, I slowed my pace and stopped before a heavy wooden door that looked centuries old. The air hung still, but no footsteps sounded. No one traversed the halls; no one human, anyway. As quietly as I could given its age, I nudged the door open just enough for me to slip through. It closed the same way.

While no one lived down here to my knowledge, the catacombs reeked of rotten food and excrement. Most likely from the rats both living and lying behind the barricades. Then again, there were a few guards who spent quite a bit of time down here, as their duty required, so maybe they contributed to the scents.

Either way, it was disgusting.

Though dank and dark, just enough light shined from the lanterns hanging irregularly from the ceilings to illuminate my way. With each turn my stomach churned, and not just due to the horrible smells. The last time I'd been down here...when was the last time I'd been down here? It'd been years, easily. There was a time when I'd gotten lost, but I was young then, barely older than five. Had it really been eighteen years? Shit, my memory _was_ terrible.

But at least my sense of direction was decent. Somehow I managed to navigate the catacombs without running into a barricade, but what I did run into left my heart even emptier. Cold eyes met mine from behind spectacles, but not the eyes that I wanted to see. When did he get down here?

I stammered out anything that could sound like a plausible excuse, but I only managed to make myself look even guiltier. As always, disappointment lay across his face.

"You couldn't have at least waited for a better opportunity," he drawled.

Barely I managed to grasp words. "Kunihiro, please—"

"Why do you always do this?" he interrupted. "Why are you always sympathetic with them? They're _criminals_ , Tetsuhiro. Criminals that deserve to be punished for their actions." He nodded to the hall left of him, where I knew the cells were. "Him especially."

"Just once," I whispered. "Just let me see him once before he's executed!"

"No," Kunihiro denied.

"Why?"

"I could ask you the same. Why is it so important that you see him? What is he to you?"

My eyes shot to the ground. I could tell him, but I'd only worsen the situation. "I just...I want to hear his reason."

"His reason? Tetsuhiro, he _killed our father_. Why does it matter what his reason was? He killed the most important man in the nation, he gets executed for his actions. It's law."

"It's inhumane!" I retorted and lifted my head up from the floor. "Maybe it wasn't a rebellion plot or mindless! Maybe his life was in danger! Maybe he was being forced to do it for threat of his family being hurt! Maybe he was framed!"

"You're shouting nonsense," Kunihiro spat. "I won't let you see him."

I clenched my fists at my sides. "You don't know him," I said. "You don't know his reasons or how he feels."

"And you do?"

I flinched at that. He was right, though I didn't want to believe him. I'd been captive for only two months, but I'd only really spent time with him for maybe two weeks. Still...I felt as if I knew him enough to merit a final visit. I did love him, after all; more than enough to want to hear him out.

"No," Kunihiro continued, "you don't. You don't know anything about him, Tetsuhiro."

I could only hold his gaze for a few moments before it froze and shattered my own. I looked away. "I would if you let me see him," I whispered. Before Kunihiro could say anything else I turned and stormed away. The frozen pieces of my eyes started to melt, but I made no attempt to wipe the wetness away.

Then from behind, a voice with all the power of a blacksmith's mallet...

"His execution is in a month."


	4. Chapter 4

Gentle creaking assaulted my ears, but it had no effect on my eyes. Nor did the heavy footsteps that came from the source of that creaking. Nor did the gentle thud and clatter next to me. And certainly not the voice instructing me to consume whatever shit they threw into the bowl.

At the beginning of all of this, I did open my eyes. I opened my eyes and glared as harshly as I could at him—at all of the members of that shitface of a king's guard force. I hadn't remembered the name of the guard who had interacted with me the most during this ordeal; he'd said it maybe once himself. The others probably mentioned it, too, but they always wore masks or helmets, so I couldn't match names with faces. But I did remember that he had a scar running across his forehead and had the face—or, at least, what I could see of it—of an ass. So I'd named him Ass Scar in my mind.

He knew of the name, of course. I'd shouted it at him a few times in the beginning. The look on his face that he got was always entertaining—but I discovered quickly the math behind the amount of lashes they gave me. For each insult I slung, I received two lashes, whether from knives, belts, or whips. Sometimes more, depending on how irritable they were. For five insults, I could receive anywhere between ten and thirty new scars.

A few days after that, I'd learned to bite my tongue. Even then, however, I still got punished, only this time it was for not responding to them rather than offending them. My back still stung, but at least it stung less than it had a month ago.

A boot nudged my arm. Was it still bleeding? No, that healed up. Or was that the scar that was full of pus?

My eyes still didn't open. Maybe if I acted dead he'd leave me alone. That sometimes worked with the other guards.

No, but this was Ass Scar, and Ass Scar enjoyed persistence. The fucker. He was just like Morinaga, but even _more_ annoying.

Morinaga—the reason why I was in this situation in the first place. _I love you._ Bullshit, he did. His... _race_ didn't love. _They_ were incapable of real feelings. All he wanted was my ass and mouth. Though at the moment I almost wouldn't mind seeing that desire. It was better than this...shithole. At least he had a justification for expressing his 'love.' Knowing how to read would prove beneficial in the future. If there was a future, anyway.

What was I thinking? Of course there was a future! I'd escaped from here once, and I could damn well do it again. I just needed someone who was pissed at the others enough to help. Or, better yet, Morinaga. He'd be the best option. He hated his brother—or, at least, he disliked him enough to shout at him. I'd hoped he'd visit so I could initiate my plan, but he'd never shown up. It probably wouldn't have helped at all, though, since they muzzled me most of the time. I still didn't regret biting off that arrogant bastard's ear, though. He deserved it.

Growing aggravated, I managed to peel back my eyelids enough to see the cell that had become my home a month or so ago. It made the ones we had in the fortress look like royal accommodations. Had I lain on my back, my head against the back wall, my feet would have grazed the front bars. If I lay horizontally, I would've had to prop my legs up on the other wall to fit. The ugly few weeks between winter and spring had set in, signaled by the lukewarm heat that plagued the cell during the day and the intense cold that froze the place at night. It had no windows, and the lantern outside only remained lit for a few hours out of the day. Now, however, I could see the mold-speckled dirt walls in all of their crude glory. The only thing that made an attempt at comfort was the bucket resting at the front of the cell. Though that had only been provided after I'd started pissing through the bars. My right shoulder had nearly lost all of its skin after the fifth time, and when I returned, the bucket had awaited me.

His mouth still masked and—surprisingly—head covered by a helmet, the only feature on him that I could see was his eyes, glinting with some kind of satisfaction. I probably looked five seconds from sleeping. How odd; I felt five seconds from dying.

"Oh, good," he said in that darkly happy voice of his. "I thought you were dead."

Ah, so I did look ready to die. If I had the energy to, I'd add to the aesthetic with a groan.

"Still not talking?"

My reply was silence.

He dropped the matter and crouched next to me. "Still not eating, either." His gloved hand grasped my chin and tilted my head up. "You look like a corpse."

Did my stomach growl or was I ready to vomit? Eh, it was probably both. There wasn't any food in me, but there was always blood and acid.

Ass Scar released my head and picked up the bowl that he'd dropped earlier. The slurry within was white this time. Everything up to this point had been brown; I didn't know whether to be intrigued or to hide my tongue away. He didn't give me much time for either, as he scooped whatever the fuck it was onto a spoon and poised it at my lips.

"Come on. You need to stay alive for just a little while longer."

My mouth didn't open. What was the point? I'd probably retch it back up immediately, anyway.

But that damn persistence!

He poked my cheek with the spoon. "Come on. I'll force it in if I need to."

Part of the reason lay behind my lack of energy. But if he wasn't planning on letting up, who was I to deny the fool entertainment? So I opened my mouth, and to what little relief I had, whatever had been put inside didn't taste like shit. It probably would've if I wasn't starving right now, since it was probably made of scraps of rice and half-rotted vegetables that they'd mashed together. But at least that was something.

"There. Was that so difficult?" His mocking tone made me want to hit him, but it would've been like a grasshopper attacking a bear. "I wish you would've been this way from the start. You would've been hurt less."

 _That's bullshit and you know it,_ I thought. Maybe my wounds wouldn't have been left to fester, but they wouldn't have hurt me less.

"Do you know when your execution is?" he asked.

 _Of course I don't. I've been locked in a cell for the past month._

"It's tomorrow."

I didn't feel the least bit of shock. I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't escape again. I'd been lucky before. One of the guards had been against the monarchy, and with a little bit of help I managed to escape with little to no issues. After that, however, they must have cleaned up the servants and guards; none of them seemed willing to assist. My only hope had been Morinaga, but for some reason he hadn't made any trips down here. Even now I questioned why. He was a prince, wasn't he? Couldn't he go wherever he wanted? Oh, but his brother was king. He'd probably forbidden Morinaga to visit because of the possibility of escape.

"You don't seem surprised," Ass Scar commented. "I suppose that's to be expected, though." He set the bowl down and leaned closer—uncomfortably close. "I won't lie, though. I'll miss you, Silver Assassin. Your screams were wonderful."

Just as I'd predicted, my stomach drove out the slurry-paste, and I retched not only onto myself but also onto Ass Scar. With a glare he stood.

"I'll let you get away with that. Your last day is tomorrow, after all." He closed the door to my cell when he exited, but he didn't leave. He turned to wave at me. "I'll see you tomorrow, Silver Assassin."

Some of that paste must have stayed in my stomach, since I managed to rasp out, "My hair's light blonde."


	5. Chapter 5

"M...Mori...na...ga…Mori...naga...Morinaga…!"

My name came in breathy pants from his lips, parted and vulnerable. Beads of sweat rolled down his heated cheeks the same way drool trickled from the corners of his mouth. Redness stained his cheeks, and the intensity of summer radiated from his skin. His body twitched and tensed beneath my own, completely open for me to violate to my heart's content. And those eyes...so wide and glazed, simply _begging_ me to touch him. "Take me," they said. "Love me. Own me."

And I did.

I pressed myself against his flowering entrance and leaned down so our foreheads touched. If his body was any hotter I'd have to pull away for fear of burns. Well, even under that threat I probably wouldn't pull away. He was too sensitive—too beautiful for me to leave unsatisfied. That'd be cruel, even if he had dealt me cruelties of his own during our time together.

I cupped his burning cheek and tilted his head toward mine. Our gazes locked, mine directing assurances into his. "You'll be fine," my eyes said. "I'll take care of you."

His eyes softened a little at those reassurances, and I could feel his legs open a bit more. Feeling myself pulse at the action, I filled him in a single thrust. A sharp channel of breath entered his mouth, and his eyes pinched shut. I froze within him. He wasn't in pain; I'd know if he was. His reaction was just the usual initial rush of sensation that came with being entered. And what a wonderful reaction it was.

"I'm in," I murmured tenderly into his ear. "Tell me when I can move."

As much as I wanted to, I didn't mind staying like this. His little moans and whimpers alone could make me come. But he wouldn't do the same. He'd be left unsatisfied; I couldn't allow that. Not when he wanted this so desperately. I'd love him for as long as he wanted me to. All he needed to do was tell me when I could move.

It was subtle, but there was definitely a nod. I pressed a kiss to his ear. He tasted so sweet…

Tentatively I pulled a few inches out of him, then thrust back in gently. He held back for only a moment before releasing all inhibitions. I struck him the way a musician struck the keys on an organ, and I received sounds of various pitches and intensities with each strike. Breathy moans and helpless whimpers poured from him; paired with my heated grunts and pleasured grunts, we created a symphony of euphoria loud enough for the gods to hear.

My inner animal bursting at the seams with desire, I captured his lips in a kiss that I knew would leave him breathless. Whether from exhaustion or submission I did not know, but either way, his mouth drifted open and his head tilted to the side. My tongue invaded his mouth, forcing itself so deep inside that I feared he'd gag. I lathered his tongue in my saliva, sucking and biting his lips until I saw them redden.

He threw his arms around me and held me in place as if I was the only thing keeping him from death. I adjusted the angle of my thrusts so I used his spot to its full potential. His fingers tensed, and I let out a low groan as I felt his nails break open my skin. I could feel the blood flowing, but I didn't care. He was delirious before, but at this point he was lost completely. And so was I. So lost that I could barely remember my name. Then again, how could I forget? That was all he cried out, right next to my ear, drilling it deep into my skull how much he wanted me.

The symphony was approaching climax; I felt it in him and in me. As hastily as I could, I sat up and pulled him into my lap. My vision blurred to the point of near-blindness, I felt my way up his shoulders and to his cheek, which I cupped in a firm grip. I brought his head toward my own and captured his lips in yet another kiss, even more aggressively than I'd attacked him before. As quickly as I'd bombarded him I pulled away…

And he screamed my name so sharply that I thought I heard a window crack.

My intense groan accompanied his screech beautifully, the same way his climax corresponded with my own. My abdomen tensed when his splatter hit me, and his hole clenched around my burst.

The cloud that had brought us so high gently lowered us to reality, where we lay beside one another. His head rested against my chest, and mine sat atop his. I inhaled his scent, still sweat but now tinged with sweat. Unsurprisingly he drifted off a few seconds after calming down, and while I knew I was seconds away from joining him, I couldn't manage to leave this world just yet. His sleeping form was far too lovely. I'd always been called an angel, but now I was fully convinced that the being I held in my arms transcended angels. He had to. There was no other way to explain his beauty. Beauty that _I_ held. No one else. Just me.

From the bottom of my heart I wished that morning would never come.

* * *

But it did come, and it came with such a vengeance that I felt as if the air itself assaulted me from all angles. Simultaneously cold numbness and sharp pain lingered around my body, both feelings so intense that I wanted to cry. I would've, too, had I any tears left to cry. I'd drained them all from my system over the past few days. Still I caught myself wanting to cry. And why wouldn't I? The one I loved was going to die today, and I could do nothing to assist.

Not for lack of trying, though. I'd spent the past month poring over law texts, desperately searching for something— _anything_ that I could use to my advantage. I probably would have, too, had some of the texts not been missing from the library. How odd that some of them had disappeared during the exact time period that I wanted them. But it wasn't as if I could accuse Kunihiro directly; I had no way of proving that he was responsible, though I damn well knew he'd at least contributed to the books' disappearances.

So instead I'd tried to seek out different methods. I'd lingered around everywhere from guards to servants, but after about two days of that, it was painfully clear that locks had been placed around their lips. Luckily Kunihiro's ability to monitor me only stretched so far, allowing me ample opportunities to slip into the city. The most logical option was to seek out a judge or lawman, but commoners were an asset heavily underrated. I'd explored taverns, markets—even churches in search of anything that could help. Again, though, no luck. The last option was to seek out help from...unsavory characters. Not only did that go against my personal comforts, however, there were also few who would assist me, given how knowledgeable everyone was of who I was.

It was times like these where I wished that I'd gotten to know my past lovers better; though I hadn't known it at the time, I could've probably manipulated them to do something like this for me. Yes, manipulation wasn't a good thing to do, but there was a life at stake here. A life who couldn't defend himself due to prejudice against his kind.

I was almost tempted to make a disappearance now. It wouldn't be all that difficult. I could just obscure my face and slip away into the city, maybe seek out a few acquaintances that may or may not be willing to accommodate me. I wanted to see him again, but not this way. Not with a noose around his neck and all life drained from his eyes. Or I could just orchestrate the second execution now. Even if it was a dream, at least the last memory I'd have of him would be one of love.

But somehow, even when I was fully prepared to leave this world, I managed to drag myself out of bed, throw decent enough clothes on my body, and trudge my way toward my destination.

In the past I'd never had to attend an execution, nor had I ever wanted to. Anyone willing to watch death of their own volition...I hoped I'd never turn into anything like that. But no matter how much I wanted to deny it, Souichi had killed our father and kept me captive. Arguably this would be the biggest 'show of justice' in my brother's reign, so naturally both Kunihiro and I would have to attend. Little did those attending with us know that there was no 'justice' in this. Not when we didn't know exactly _why_ he'd done what he had.

The dark clouds circling around me must have been bigger than I'd previously thought, for every person that I passed gave me the same concerned look. Some even voiced their concerns, though with improper volume used.

"He looks terrible."

"Is he taking drugs?"

"Think he'll use Captive's Choice?"

"No one's used that in decades."

"He'll probably use a noose. Just look at how depressed he is."

There wasn't any reason to glare at them; the floor and my shoes already bore witness to that. Besides, I'd need to save my bitterness toward Kunihiro. I hated being bitter toward people, but he deserved it. He was my brother, but more and more I'd begun to view him as a stranger. Did he feel the same way about me? Or did he always never see me as a close relative? I knew my romantic preferences had severed ties between us; we were lucky if we had a frayed thread connecting us at this point. Given the past few months' occurrences, though, I couldn't help but doubt that possibly-nonexistent thread's strength.

Nearly blinded by the light shining from the far-too-bright sun, I met Kunihiro on a balcony. He offered scarcely more than a nod of acknowledgment before turning his gaze downward. My eyes followed his. Despite their intended purpose, the palace's gallows mostly stood in storage. Usually prisoners were either beheaded or died from torture wounds before they could be properly executed. But in the case of an 'important' figure being executed, the gallows were dusted off and brought out.

Brought out alongside the simple but menacing wood construction was a crowd that filled the courtyard's stair-like seating—also only brought out when events of importance occurred. Spectators in both silk robes and burlap rags would bear witness to the hanging, though they sat in different sections so as to not 'mix the bloods.' Their backgrounds ranged from illiterate farmers to worldly scholars, from wealthy merchants to poverty-stricken homeless, from those with title to those with anonymity. But they all had one thing in common: all of them wanted Souichi to die.

By the time the guards quieted the crowd, I'd already ceased listening. My gaze fixated on the loop of the noose, and my ears only vaguely picked up the speech Kunihiro was giving. Based on what I did hear, though, it wasn't anything new. "Welcome you here," "great moment in history," "justice," "killed the former king"—and not a single trace of compassion or care.

"...the Silver Assassin will pose no threat to you any longer."

He ceased speaking, and I shifted my gaze to see the crowd clapping for him. _Don't clap,_ I thought. _You'll be witnessing a death. That's nothing to celebrate._

Another reason why this world I lived in made me sick—things sad or unfortunate in life were misconstrued into celebrations. Death was equivalent to birth; the 'birth of safety,' as I'd heard it referred to in the past. But this wouldn't change anything. There would still be bandits and assassins and thieves in the world. All this would do was lure everyone into a false sense of safety and security. I hated this place. I hated everything about it. I hated everyone in it.

All at once their heads turned. My stomach churned, and my body tensed. Metal footsteps clanked across the cobbled ground, growing more prominent as they drew nearer. He was there. I knew he was. All this time I'd wanted to see him, but now I couldn't bring myself to seek his gaze. I didn't want my last image of him to be an ugly one…

I turned my head at a snail's speed.

My last image of him wouldn't be ugly.

It'd be harrowing.

Initially his head had been downcast, but a guard had fisted his hand in his stringy, oily hair and forced him to look up. Shades of black, blue, and green surrounded his eyes, open so minimally that I wondered if he could see at all. Dried and fresh blood trickled from his nostrils, and some mixture of blood and vomit had poured from his mouth recently, evidenced by the way it still dripped from his chin. The gag previously silencing him rested loosely around his neck, but even then I could still view the redness marking his skin. A pair of crude undergarments was the only thing that covered him, unwashed for at least two weeks. The lack of clothing allowed me full view of his body, battered worse than any I'd seen in my life. His chest was a canvas of scars and welts, some still bleeding. Scabs as large as beetles dotted his arms, the biggest one nearly as big as a small animal. Green and black in color, the hardened skin secreted a disgusting mix of blood and pus, signaling an intense infection. Among the remnants of torture was filthy skin, through which I could see bone.

A tear fell from my eye the next time I blinked.

"As you all can see, the prisoner has learned suffering over his past month in captivity," Kunihiro continued. It was as if he was speaking about the weather. "His wounds are gruesome, but not nearly as gruesome as the wounds he inflicted upon us years ago through his brutal and mindless assassination." To the one holding Souichi in place, he said, "Proceed."

With a nod, the man practically carried Souichi up to the noose. He looped the rope around his neck, and after tightening it enough for security while allowing him to breathe, he stepped away.

Kunihiro spoke once more, but the only thing I could concentrate on was the gallows. This was it. He was going to die. He was going to die right here, right before me, and I was helpless to assist.

Perhaps he was dead already. His wounds would lead one to believe that, and based on some of the crowd reactions, a few of them did believe that.

Then he looked at me.

His eyelids peeled back just a little more, and the orange-hazel eyes I'd yearned to see came into view. I'd only known anger and bitterness in his gaze, products of both things in my control and things only the gods could decide. But now...now there was fear. Desperation and fear. But more than either of those, there was helplessness. Pleading. Begging.

He didn't want to die—he wasn't ready yet. Even if life had dealt him a shitty hand for the past while, he'd drawn at least one decent card. A flea-sized speck in his eye told me that. He wanted to change. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to redeem himself.

He wanted to live. And he wanted me to break the chains keeping him restrained from that.

But what could I do? There was no way to assist! Not at this point! Kunihiro would overrule anything that I said. The best thing I could do would be stall for time, and all that would do was cause him more suffering. Shit…! Shit, shit, shit…! What the hell was I supposed to do?! I couldn't stop this execution!

And then some otherworldly force struck me across the cheek. The servants earlier...their concern...their comments…

"I call Captive's Choice!"


	6. Chapter 6

Blackness clouded over half of my vision, and the other half was so unfocused that the world seemed like a shapeless blur. It was as if the world's creators had thrown their hands up, said, "fuck it," and stopped giving things definite shapes. It was also as if they'd decided "let's fuck with Souichi!" and replaced all flavors with metallic blood and burning acid. And why not throw in dull aches everywhere on my body? Just for the fun of it!

Bastards, all of them.

Though I didn't believe in miracles, by some occurrence like one, I managed to keep my eyes open enough to look up. My eyes met Morinaga's, distressed and wide. Concerned. Afraid. I would've scoffed if I could feel my voice. He wasn't the one about to get killed. He hadn't been starved and beaten relentlessly for the past month. Whatever suffering he'd experienced was luxurious compared to my own. Gods, I wanted to hit him…

What did he see in my eyes? What did they look like? Probably pathetic. Like an animal confined in a trap, only capable of whining and howling in pain. Well, I guess that was fitting. I probably looked like an animal, and while I couldn't speak, my body was screaming in pain. The fact that I could even stand floored me.

I'd hang in a few moments, though. At least then my legs could get some rest.

The guard who had manhandled me out here had his gloved hand on a lever. Well, I thought he did, anyway. I was still staring at Morinaga, whose fear and anxiety radiated so far off of his body that I could feel it from where I barely stood. Based on what I knew about methods of execution, the pulling of that lever would release part of the floor—the part I stood on. Then I'd hang, and either die immediately or have my neck broken and just hang there in agony until I bled out. Either way, those spectating would clap.

Whoever dictated how my senses reacted to my surroundings left my ears relatively intact, and they'd left me with a somewhat decent perception of time. At two minutes had passed, and I was still standing in the same place. And _breathing._

Come to think, Morinaga's lips _did_ move. What'd he say? Captive...something...shit, I knew I'd heard him scream something. What was it?

His lips continued moving, but now I couldn't hear anything. Not even the sound of my own shallow breathing. Whatever he'd said, it had angered the king, who now engaged him in what seemed like an intensely heated arguement. Morinaga pointed downward, in my direction. He was talking about me?

I tried making out what they were saying to one another, but the extra effort that required proved far too much for my mind. Everything around me blackened, and my legs finally gave out beneath me. I stumbled a bit at first, but after only a moment my knees buckled entirely. Some force wound around my middle, preventing me from truly falling. Would that fall have choked me even though the floor hadn't given out?

My head bent forward, and I stopped forcing my eyes open. However I'd looked at Morinaga had done something, for I wasn't dead. Yet.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kunihiro's growled question may have broken the silence plaguing the courtyard, but it didn't break my gaze with Souichi. Had his expression changed? Everyone else's had, my own included. I thought his had widened a little more, but if they did, the difference was slight and had already happened.

"What nonsense are you calling?"

I still didn't reply to him, but this time it wasn't out of distraction. Rather, I needed to gather justification. Had I read anything regarding that before? The words didn't sound familiar, but what they implied did. In the late half of my adolescence I'd met an attractive young merchant who had an affinity for cheating and beguiling. During one of the times we'd gone out for drinks together, he'd relayed a tale regarding a criminal who had faced execution. Being that I'd been told this story years ago, its details were surrounded by a thick haze in my mind, but the gist was that the criminal had held a noble captive, but for a different charge, the criminal was arrested. Initially the criminal's punishment was imprisonment, but after the noble he'd held captive was tipped off, the noble used a law that allowed him to choose the criminal's punishment.

That story ended in the criminal being executed, but if the principle remained true…

"I call Captive's Choice," I repeated.

"What the hell is that?"

Hopefully this would sound somewhat convincing; I was half-drunk whenever this had happened. "It's this law regarding punishments," I started. "Basically, if the person who's being punished held another person captive, that captive has the right to choose the punishment."

His eyes narrowed at me. "And if I overrule?"

"You can't." I hoped.

"Oh? I'm above you, Tetsuhiro. I can overrule anything that you do."

"Check the laws, then," I challenged. "I'm sure you have the texts laying around somewhere."

"What're you accusing me of?"

"You know exactly what I'm accusing you of! You removed some of the law texts from the files because you didn't want me to save his life." I pointed down at Souichi.

"And if I did?" he asked. "Can you blame me for not wanting someone like _that_ still breathing?"

"I can when you don't know everything," I spat. "He has a reason for doing what he did, and I want to know what that reason is. The dead can't speak, Kunihiro."

Anger flared in his eyes before dimming to a gentle but steady fire. "You need to learn your place, Tetsuhiro. And your place _isn't_ here, dictating how he's punished."

"Neither is yours!" I hissed. "You can't decide what's fitting for him if you don't know what needs fitted!"

"He's a thief, a kidnapper, and a murderer," Kunihiro listed. "Moreover, he's a thief who's stolen from civilians, a kidnapper who abducted a prince, and a murderer who killed a king. How is execution _not_ fitting?"

"I'm not saying that it isn't fitting," I placated. Screaming at him wouldn't get me anywhere. He wasn't a person to change his opinions and decisions easily. But nor was I. Not whenever I felt so passionately about the subject at hand. "What I am saying, however, is that you don't know _how_ fitting it is."

His glare softened but only a little. His arms folded across his chest, he spat, "Explain."

"You don't know the motive behind the murder," I started. "That matters as much as the murder itself. What if he was being threatened by someone else? If that's the case, there could be another person out there who just didn't want to get his hands dirty."

That struck some nerve in him, for his gaze drifted down to where Souichi stood. I followed his eyes, widening my own whenever I saw his downcast head and the guard holding him up from behind. He was so close to death that it made me hurt.

"That is true," he allowed. His eyes returned to me. "But it's also true that he could lie to save himself."

"But we could investigate what he says further." I took a few steps closer and lowered my voice. "You can't fight me on this. It doesn't matter how much you want to—I was the captive. I have final say in what happens to him."

We stared at one another for eons. You could cut the amount of tension between us with an axe, but the blade would only be able to nick the surface. Between us I could see that little thread that connected us, long since frayed to a single thin strand. Now that single strand held up a mountain of anger and frustration.

Kunihiro grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer. "I am king," he hissed. "Brother or not, you're still below me. You still have to obey my orders, and I order that he die, regardless of what you call!"

I grasped his wrist none too gently. "Even if you are king, you still have to follow the laws set by your predecessors. You wouldn't want your followers to view you as unfair, would you?"

"You're talking out your ass," he retorted. "Everyone out there wants him dead."

"But now everyone out there knows I don't," I replied easily. "Know what they're doing now? They're asking questions. They're wondering why I spoke up. They're wondering _if he's innocent._ "

"We both know he's not innocent."

"We both know he's not innocent in action," I corrected. "Neither of us know that he's not innocent in motive."

His grasp on my shirt tightened. "Public perception of you is already negative," he said. "Especially after you _disgraced us_ with all the abominable things you've done."

I stiffened. The thread snapped, and all emotion disappeared from my voice. "It's clear that neither of us know all the details of Captive's Choice. So how about this: we review the law—the same one—together to gather all the details and determine the punishment from there."

I felt his grasp loosen, if only a little. "All right," he allowed. "That sounds—"

"I'm not done."

He quirked a brow at me. "Proceed."

"So we do that. _However_ , you have to meet a few requests of mine, regardless of what the law says."

"And they are?"

"I have two. First—" I gestured to the gallows. "—if you want to make a public display of his death, you'll need him alive. If you don't kill him, his wounds will. Get him medical attention— _good_ medical attention—immediately. Second, let me interrogate him. I want to find out his reasons behind the murder."

"Why should I let you execute the interrogation?" he questioned. "You're far too nice to extract any information."

"I won't need violence to extract information," I justified. "Besides, do you really think he'll talk to any of you after this month?"

"Do you think he'll talk to you, after you led to his capture?" Kunihiro retorted.

I didn't hesitate. "He is resentful of me, yes, but out of all of us, he knows me the best. I can't say that he trusts me, but I damn well know that he'd rather hang _himself_ than speak to any of your men. So what'll it be, _brother_? Results or resentment?"

He gritted his teeth, but I could see him weaken. "And what if I don't agree?"

Again, no hesitation. Maybe I had more dirt on me, but Kunihiro wasn't innocent. "I'll release information regarding your failed engagement."

He widened his eyes, and for the first time that I could recall, his will to argue vanished completely. But in place of that will was anger, which he used to bring our foreheads together. "This isn't over," he told me. "You have valid points, as well as something to hang over my head, but that changes nothing. Use your 'Captive's Choice' for now. But believe me now, the _moment_ I find something I can use to my advantage, I'll have him hanging from the battlements."

Kunihiro shoved me back and turned his gaze to the crowd. "The execution is postponed," he announced. "Bring the prisoner to the infirmary immediately." Without any further explanation or even a proper goodbye, Kunihiro stormed off the balcony.

I wanted to grin, but my anger only allowed me a slight smirk. Thank you, attractive merchant, for your unsavory ways. What was his name again? Junda? Juma? Junya? Ah, it didn't matter. I'd probably find out if I poked around enough. But that wasn't important right now. The gods smiled down upon me. Souichi would live. I won. The battle was over between us.

But the war had only just begun.


	7. Chapter 7

Rather than before a judgment desk, the next time I awoke I found myself laying down. The ceiling stared down at me, but it wasn't the earthen gaze that I'd come to expect. Pebbles and dirt didn't stab my back like little vengeance-filled soldiers. Instead, my body sunk into whatever I was laying upon. To the best of my ability I looked down. At least two sheets covered me, the bottom one thinner than the top one. I made to turn my head, but I only managed to move an inch before a pole shoved its way through my neck and up into my skull. I pinched my eyes shut.

Regardless of whoever had taken me here, they hadn't taken my pain with them. Not all of it, anyway. Granted, I did feel invincible compared to before I'd fallen asleep—or had I fallen unconscious? Well, either way, aches still plagued me. My back in particular reminded me of a time when I'd broken it in a few places about five years ago. I'd been pursued by bounty hunters and had to throw myself off a cliff in order to escape. Luckily I'd managed to cling to a tree branch, the fall from which only injured me rather than killing me. I grimaced at the memory; that was when I'd met Isogai. And it marked the spike in my homicidal behaviors. Those three months I'd spent in his care had been awful. He did keep my injuries from worsening when I wouldn't have been able to do so on my own, but his ulterior-motive-ridden personality nearly drove me to jumping off the cliff again.

Through all the hell I'd experienced here, at least he wasn't part of it. In that sense, the little shithole they'd kept me in was a beautiful paradise full of unlimited wine, balmy weather, and naked women. I didn't have much interest in the latter, but it was always nice to have the option.

Something warm rested upon my cheek, but before I opened my eyes, something external entered my mouth. The object was long and slender, and it nearly gagged me with how far it was shoved down my throat. The thing on my face tilted my head up, sending another pole through my neck. A stream of liquid surged down my throat, and a taste that combined cheap ale and cough tonic flooded my senses. I swallowed once, but the stream didn't cease. Actually gagging now, I jerked forward and hacked. The object—I presumed it was the neck of a glass bottle—left my mouth, sending the liquefied shit onto my sheets, myself, and most likely whoever had provided the bottle.

One coughing fit and some heaving later, I managed to look up. My eyes widened when they met a pair of hazel-green ones.

"Oh, good, you're all right," he said, relieved. "I was worried that you'd vomit."

"What...what the hell're you doing here?" I asked. "And where am I?" Now that I was up I could look around a little better, though my back pains kept tugging me toward the bed. The room was bland, but it was an actual room with actual walls and actual floors. A table sat off to the side, vials and bottles filling the top. I was in an infirmary?

Morinaga nodded, as if he'd read my previous thought. "I'm glad you're awake. You've been unconscious for a few days."

"Days?" So it _was_ unconsciousness.

He nodded again. "If you still weren't awake, this would make the fifth day."

"Oh." Unable to handle the discomfort of sitting halfway up, I fell onto the bed once more. I winced with a hiss when hundreds of needles pierced my back.

"What is it?" Morinaga asked. He moved closer, eight shades of concern streaked across his face. "Are you hurt?"

Was he stupid? Of course I was hurt! That's why I was here! "I hit the injuries," I said. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure? That sounded painful."

"I said that I'm fine," I assured.

"If you say so…" He settled back in his seat, but his face only lost one part of his concern. "I'm sorry about the medicine. I didn't know if you were awake or not."

Maybe he wasn't stupid. He could've just been blind. "What is it?"

"Stomach medicine. It'll help your appetite."

"Appetite?"

"Yeah. Based on what the guards told me, you've vomited anything that they fed you." He held up the bottle that had previously choked me. "This should help with that."

I glanced to the side. "Does it really matter?" I grumbled.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"The shit they give me will just make me vomit anyway."

His tone shifted to relieved once more. "Oh, that's what you're worried about. I promise the food will be bearable."

"They won't do it for me."

"They will if I order it."

My gaze shifted to him once more, but I averted it once more directly after. Why did he look so damn happy? "What'd you think I meant?"

"Huh?"

"A few seconds ago you sounded relieved. Why?"

"Well...I was afraid you meant it wouldn't matter because you'd be executed. Or...suicide."

I scoffed. "I've been through worse than this." It was only a slight exaggeration. Only one time had made me truly want to kill myself.

"I can imagine," he replied.

"You mind telling me why I'm here and not hanging from a rope?"

"O-Oh, right. Well, I managed to convince them to stop the execution. Or, at least, to delay it. I used a forgotten law that let me choose your punishment, since you held me captive before."

"People still use Captive's Choice?"

He blinked at that. "You know what it is?"

"Of course I do. A lot of criminals do. That's how we manage to keep our own from getting executed."

"Have you used it before?"

"Never had the privilege. But I know about it due to someone I used to work with telling me about it." The same someone who had changed my life forever—and who had nearly destroyed it.

"Anyway," Morinaga continued, "after some negotiating with my brother, I managed to secure your safety. At least, for now."

"Why just for now? Why not forever?"

Now it was he who looked away. "Well...ah...as you know, since you held me captive, I get to choose your punishment. But at the same time, my brother's trying to find a way to overrule me, even if the law says that he can't, even if he is king. So you're safe from execution, but I don't know for how long that'll be."

I smirked to myself as an idea popped into my head. "I know how you could deal with that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"You're brothers, if I'm not mistaken. But since he was born first, he became king."

He nodded.

"Isn't there a law that says if he dies the next-born takes the throne?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, let's say that an inedible chemical is accidentally spilled in his wine—"

He sat bolt upright in his seat. "What?! You're...you're suggesting that I…" His voice lowered. "... _kill_ my brother?"

"Think about it. If he dies, you'll rule. If you rule, you can do whatever you want. You can free me from punishment entirely."

His shoulders sagged but only a little. "That is true," he allowed. "But it wouldn't just be that simple."

"Yes, it would. You just need arsenic or—"

"No, no, no—not that. I meant that ruling would be that easy. While it's true that I could free you, and I do really, _really_ want you free...I wouldn't be a good ruler. I despise being the second-most powerful person in the nation. I'd hate being the first."

"What's so bad about it? You can get whatever you want and do whatever you want if you're king."

"It's not that simple." In place of the concern from earlier sat sorrow, both on his face and in his voice. "True, I have more power than most, but the amount of responsibility that comes with it is awful. Appearances become more important than your personality, and public opinion drives you to inhumane things. You, for example. Kunihiro wanted to kill you the moment that he recognized you. He had no urge to find out what your reason behind the assassination was. Granted, I'd change that if I ruled, but...the stress would eat away at me."

Pangs of guilt dotted their way across my chest. I hadn't done anything to cause this—not that I knew of—so there wasn't much reason for it. But he...he looked so damn _sad_! It was as if he'd just witnessed his treasured pet being killed! If I could move enough to do it, I'd try to comfort—wait, why would I do that? I hadn't done anything that would merit that. What was this sense of obligation?

"So...if you hate your life so much, why don't you change it?" I suggested. "It's not like you don't have the power."

"That's true. But at the same time, there's hundreds of years of tradition and history behind the things that I dislike. I couldn't change them on my own, and no one would want to assist me, due to the way everything is."

That affirmed it. He wasn't stupid or blind; he was stupid _and_ blind. "You can't look harder?"

He looked up at me. "What?"

"There's plenty of people unhappy with how things are. You're just looking in the wrong circles. You're focusing on royals and nobles when you should be seeking out commoners and criminals." I rolled my eyes. "Or are they so far beneath you that you don't want to dirty your hands?"

"N-No, it's nothing like that!" he claimed. "I just...well, they won't have too much influence." He flinched. "N-Not that they don't matter at all," he stammered. "But the nobles are the ones who set precedents for others to follow. I do respect commoners and criminals." A slight smile appeared on his face. "I am in love with one, after all."

I flinched, and heat crept onto my cheeks. "Where the hell did that come from?" I hissed.

"My heart," he replied, his smile wider now. "I know that you don't believe me, and I know that you think I'm an abomination, but I promise that I'm saying that genuinely." He leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek. "I love you."

I fisted my hand in the sheets. Oh, this bastard was so lucky that I was indisposed… "Shut up," I spat. "And move. You're too close."

He sighed. "Sorry."

When I knew he'd backed away at least a few feet, I looked back at him. "Back to important matters," I said. Hopefully his mindset would shift alongside the topic. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"In the infirmary?" I nodded. He twisted his lips in thought. "Probably just until your wounds heal a little more. Based on how they looked earlier, you should be out of here in a few more days."

Good. Then I could plan my escape to a better extent. "And then where?"

"What do you mean?"

Again I rolled my eyes. "My punishment," I explained. "What did you decide?"

Guilt spread across his face like plague among derelicts. A knot of unease formed in my chest. "Ah...about that...I...uh...I chose...um…"

"Say it," I ordered. "What'd you choose?"

In a voice so tiny that I had to strain to hear, he said, "I chose...personal slavery…"


	8. Chapter 8

The moment we'd stepped into my chambers, I found myself on the floor with pain blooming in my cheek and a quickly-forming bruise on my skin. Just narrowly I avoided bashing my head against the dresser, currently supporting my back. A hand grasped my shirt, and I felt a presence straddle my hips—sadly, not the way I wanted them to.

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking?" Souichi growled.

"W-What was—?"

"Don't play dumb, you son of a bitch!" he spat. "You know exactly what that was for!" He leaned closer, our foreheads touching and his bright eyes burning holes into mine. "Slavery?! How is that any better than execution?!"

"C-Calm down!" I instructed, undoubtedly hysterically. "I'll explain it all to you, I promise! Just stop shouting!"

His body's rageful trembling may have ceased, and while his voice lowered, it retained the same intensity. "I will kill you," he whispered.

The darkness radiating from and circling around him made me shrink away. My sense of self-preservation had never been so high. "I-I'd prefer if you, uh...got off of me…"

If he was embarrassed by our position—his body practically resting in my lap, our lips mere centimeters apart—his rage camouflaged all traces of the emotion. None too gently he shoved me back and rose. That time my head did hit the wood, but that pain was minimal compared to what he'd hit me with earlier.

Those three days that had elapsed between when he'd awoken and now definitely treated him well. I still remembered how hard he could hit from my days as his captive, and while he definitely still had some recovery to do, his progress to normalcy thus far was substantial. Even the infection that had ravaged his arm had gone down much faster than I'd thought it would. Then again, I'd made sure to acquire strong medicine to treat that. I'd need him infection- and sickness-free, especially with what I had planned for him.

"So what is it, then?" Souichi asked.

I stood, holding my cheek, and turned his way. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes in a narrow glare.

"Well, as I said before, I didn't want to hurt you."

He scoffed. "When did you say that?"

 _Of course you don't remember,_ I thought. "Anyway, most of the punishments that I had the option of giving you would result in intense pain or death."

"And slavery doesn't?" he asked, appalled. "Are you really that stupid? Being a slave's worse than being executed! They get beaten and whipped and—"

"I won't hurt you," I interrupted.

He stared. "What?"

"You heard me." Dropping my hand to my side, I approached him. Whether out of instinct or intimidation, he moved back whenever I stood beside him. "I promise I won't hurt you," I assured him gently. I took another step toward him. One leg between his, I cupped his cheek and stroked him tenderly. Unsurprisingly his skin burned bright beneath my fingers, and sounds of both surprise and protest dripped from his lips. "I'll treat you well and keep you safe from harm." As our noses brushed against one another my eyes drifted shut. "I'll protect you."

The words ghosted their way across his lips before my own captured them in a sweet kiss. His hands pressed against my chest, and his mumbled protests fell on my deaf ears. He was strong; I could attest to that easily. But recovered fully or not, I had a stronger build than he did. Easily I could take him now. It wasn't time for that, however. Not yet, anyway. I'd wait a little before going any farther.

I wound an arm around his waist to secure him against my body before pulling back. Pinkness dusted my cheeks at the radiance his skin exuded. A smile appeared on my face. "I love you."

Trembling again but not out of rage, Souichi wriggled about in my hold so minimally I wondered if he was truly moving or if I was seeing things. "Where the hell did that come from?" he asked. Ah, his voice had raised a little bit like it always did when he was embarrassed. So cute! "And what do you mean, _you_?"

"Hmm? I thought you guessed." My smile stretched a bit. "I chose slavery. _Personal_ slavery."

He stared for a few moments, blankness replacing all expressions. Then I saw the pieces click in his mind, and his eyes widened enough to cause me a bit of concern. "You...you mean…" He lifted a shaky finger to point at me. " _You're_ my...m...master…?"

The fear and disbelief that laced the last word made me sadden and harden all at the same time. He looked terrified, but he looked _so adorable…_

I nodded to confirm his suspicions. "Yes. That's why I brought you up here instead of to a slave market." His terrified expression only intensified. "Ah, but don't worry! I won't make you call me 'master' or anything like that." I glanced away as my blush brightened. "Well, that is, unless you want to…"

Oh, that'd be so much fun to hear in bed...but I knew he'd never say it. Ah, well. At least I had fantasies to keep me entertained. Mmm, and what lovely fantasies there were...Souichi sitting at my feet, clad in nothing but undergarments, clinging to my legs and begging for me to take him. "Master, please...i-it's so hot...help...please...M-Master…!"

I tensed. Shit, now I was aroused! Could he feel it? We were really close to one another…

"S-Sen—" My mouth snapped shut when I looked at him again. His gaze was downcast, but the spot of wetness on his shirt told me everything that I needed to know. "Senpai…?" I placed my thumb and index finger under his chin and tilted his head up. Two waterfalls of tears surged down his cheeks, even if his eyes were pinched shut. "What's wrong?" I murmured. "Are your injuries irritated." I stroked his lower lip. "Was it my doing? I'm sorry if it was. I didn't mean—"

" _Shut up_!" he shouted. He shoved me back, successfully this time, and retreated a few steps. "I don't need your fucking comfort!"

My expression softened at that. Something was wrong, regardless of what he claimed. His back was to me, but I could tell that he was trying to wipe away the evidence. He didn't want me to see him cry, and I didn't blame him. I didn't know much about him, but I did know that he hated looking weak. Most people did. But…

Tentatively I walked up behind him, but I didn't move my arms. Either our relationship would be strengthened forever or all ties between us would sever. Regardless of the outcome, though, I needed to comfort—no. I needed to _help_ him.

I wound my arms around him from behind and pulled him against my chest. A few moments ticked by. He didn't yell or struggle. Just cried. Cried and cried hard, undoubtedly harder than he'd cried in a long time. I loved him, and though it was only a tenth of what he felt, it pained me to see him like this.

"Are you scared?" I whispered.

"What do you...what're you saying…?" he mumbled in reply. Though I didn't want him to, he'd managed to repress his crying enough to remain coherent.

"It won't be bad," I assured. "Slavery sounds harsh, but it's not going to be nearly as bad as you think." I rested my head on his shoulder. "I know I've acted harshly toward you in the past, but I promise that I'll fix that. I don't want you to fear me."

He sniffled once. "It's not that. It's just...I…" He shook his head and wiped his eyes. "Never mind. It's nothing."

My frown deepened, and I pressed a kiss to his ear. "You don't have to do this," I murmured.

"Do what?"

The murmur didn't fluster him? "Feigning indifference toward everything. It's fine if you want to cry, Senpai. You've been through some harrowing things over the past month. Anyone would cry if they were that close to death."

"It's still not that," he denied. "You're...what I went through was harrowing, but...you don't understand."

No, I didn't. I understood nothing about him, even when I thought I did. "Could you help me understand, then?"

"How would I do that?" he muttered.

"Well...what about starting from the beginning?" I suggested.

"Beginning?"

"Yes. There's a lot of things that I don't know about you. Maybe if you tell me more about yourself I can understand better."

He tilted his head downward, and I felt hesitance radiating off of him. "You want to know?" he asked.

I nodded, then blinked. "But, of course, you don't have to if you don't want to. I don't want you to feel any more pain."

"It's fine," he assured. Though softer than before, I could tell that this assurance was genuine.

"Um...do you want to sit down?" I asked.

He turned his head toward me but not enough for me to see his face. "What?"

"It's a little late," I explained. "And crying usually makes people tired. I'm just trying to look out for your health, since you're still recovering and all."

"Oh. I guess that would be a little more comfortable. It's not a short story."

"I didn't expect it to be." Someone with a personality as complex as Souichi's undoubtedly had a back story even more complex.

We sat next to each other on my bed, and the ache in my chest grew in size now that I saw his face. His eyes looked as if he'd been up for days on end, and wetness still glistened on his cheeks. Without thinking I reached out and held him again. I couldn't tell if he wanted me to hold him or was just too tired to fight me off. I decided not to ask him; it felt better to just assume the former was true.

"If you really want to understand everything, we'll have to start from the very beginning," he started. "This may be surprising, but...when I was younger, I used to be extremely stupid."

"Really?"

He nodded. "And immature. My life had been relatively normal, living in a small village with a loving family. But since the middle of my adolescence I knew that it'd be difficult for me to earn an honest living, given how opinionated and outspoken I am."

'Self-centered' and 'violent' would be better adjectives, but I kept my mouth shut.

"So shortly after I turned eighteen, I left my village and family to start my life. I'd called myself a traveler when I left, but I think they knew subconsciously that I was going to end up in crime. Not due to history, though. Just due to me being extremely unstable."

Ah, so he did know.

"There was a bandit ring called Silver Bloods that had gotten extremely notorious at the time. Silver Bloods were known for their robberies from the rich, which in turn they used to assist the poor. Public opinion of them was split, with commoners calling them heroes while nobles called them degenerates. To me, though, they were a chance at fun. So I poked around a bit until I found a member of the Silver Bloods hanging around a tavern. He agreed to take me to their leader, but only if I managed to beat him in an archery match. The bastard was cocky at first; he shot his arrow in the dead center of the target. But I'd hunted with a bow since I was around seven. His may have landed in the center, but mine did, too."

I tilted my head to the side. "Yours landed aside his?"

He smirked at that. "Nah. It landed in the exact same spot. I split his arrow with mine. Safe to say, I secured a meeting with the ring leader. I'd always envisioned bandit leaders as harsh, scruffy-looking bastards with scarred faces and eye patches that cleaned their nails with knives. Imagine my shock whenever a clean-shaven man barely older than me sat across from me and the cocky bastard I'd beat in archery. He looked more like a noble who had never worked a day in his life than a criminal. But appearances are always deceiving.

"After witnessing my marksmanship himself, the leader made me part of the ring. There were only about ten members that I knew of while I worked with them, but their numbers ranged anywhere from thirty to a hundred. No one except Ikasma knew."

"Ikasma?"

"Ah, right. That was the name of Silver Bloods' leader. Anyway, I spent about a year with the Silver Bloods in total, but around my third month with them, Ikasma started interacting with me more. I started out just standing guard while senior members did the actual work, but sooner than later I actually carried out the work. Ikasma assigned the tasks himself, something he rarely did with even the oldest of members. Everyone was curious as to why, myself included, but we didn't want to ask out of respect. He'd tell us if he wanted to.

"And around my sixth month as a Blood, he did. He pulled me into a private meeting and told me that I was the most promising member of the group. Here I was, a young, inexperienced, unstable eighteen-year-old getting praised by the head of the most infamous bandit ring in Metsudan. Naturally the praise both shocked and excited me."

"I can see how," I said.

"Well, you may not be able to see the next part as clearly." His head was turned away from me, but I could see his face redden. "Not only was I young and inexperienced and unstable, but I was also stupid and naive. Ikasma had the personality to match his charming looks, and at that point in my life I was a little more...vulnerable."

I stared at him. "Wait...you don't...you don't mean…"

Now his even his ears were the color of beets. "Don't get any wrong ideas from this," he said immediately. "I was naive and he was charming."

I felt myself redden at that news. This Ikasma had... _seduced_ the young Souichi? "What was it like?" I asked, now wholly intrigued.

He tensed. "I…" He sighed. "It's not my preference...but it wasn't awful…" He flinched. "B-But I was high on praise and we usually drank a lot before anything happened. I was never in the right state of mind."

"I understand." I smirked to myself. He'd done it indirectly, but he just admitted that he didn't hate having sex with me. It was only an affirmation of the physical side of things, but it was more than enough for now.

"Anyway, around my ninth month with him, Ikasma pulled me into another private meeting, though this time with a different intention," he continued. "He told me that he had a special job that only he and I would be involved in. At that time, criminals were being pursued relentlessly, to the point where even petty thieves could face death."

"I remember that." That purge of criminals had lasted for about five years, and while crime had lowered substantially, the death toll had risen exponentially. After four and a half years the purges decreased to the point of near-elimination. But after our father died, Kunihiro continued even when it wasn't absolutely necessary. He stopped only when public opinion began declining and plans of revolution whispered through the nation.

"Well, Ikasma's spies poked around a few forests, and they'd discovered the location of a noble who was supposedly responsible for those purges. He told me that most of the criminals weren't even committing crimes with malicious intent; they were stealing to support their loved ones. It's intolerable, even if the law is broken, and my younger self seethed with all kinds of rage whenever he told me. The mission was simple: kill the noble. Little did I know how complex things really were.

"We traveled to the forest where the noble would supposedly be passing through a few days later. I perched in a tree while Ikasma watched from below. Surely enough a small company passed right in front of us, four guards surrounding an armor-clad bastard. 'The middle one,' he told me. And a few minutes later he ordered, 'Shoot him.' And I did. A single arrow straight to the skull. I remember laughing a little; everyone else wore a helmet except for him. He was an easy target. But so was I.

"Naturally the guards were distressed, and I fully expected that. But what I didn't expect was what they shouted. 'Assassin! The king is dead! He killed the king!' At that point I realized that Ikasma had used my naivety to his advantage. But I realized that too late. Ikasma burst from the bushes and pointed to where I crouched in the tree, bow in hand, a quiver of arrows that matched the one in your father's skull on my back. I tried fighting the guards off, and I managed to break the arm of one. Even though I was outnumbered, the guards weren't the ones who restrained me; it was Ikasma. He held me back while the others beat the shit out of me. Eventually I passed out, and when I woke up next, I was in a cell in the palace."

"So he got you to do his dirty work?" I surmised.

He nodded. "And he didn't hesitate about giving me up, either. I wanted to kill him as soon as I heard the guards shouting, and I would've, too, had I not been so shocked."

Now that I heard that, I wanted to find this Ikasma and hurt him. Anyone who would give up their loyal subordinate so easily was scum.

"But that wasn't the end of it," he said. "Not even close. Shortly after I was captured, I received a visitor. I was curious as well as confused—I didn't think prisoners were allowed visitors when they were royal prisoners. And it—"

"—was Ikasma?" I interrupted. Gods, this was getting really complex. And I could tell he was nowhere near done!

Another nod. "If I wasn't restrained, I would've strangled him. We were supposed to be supervised, too, but Ikasma had bribed the guard to leave us alone. He told me that he knew I was scheduled for questioning—he had spies even in the palace. He probably still does. Ikasma told me not to say a word about him. Naturally I was going to do it even if he'd said not to. But then…" His tone harshened, and I saw his hands fist. "...he threatened me the worst way he could. He said that if I ratted him out, he'd rape my sister and then kill her and my brother. Even if Ikasma was a slippery bastard, I knew his threat was genuine. My safety wasn't worth nearly as much as my siblings'. So I kept my mouth shut and let the bastard go free."

He ceased his explanations, and I could feel the rage bubbling from every inch of his being. I leaned closer and kissed his cheek. He tensed but didn't fight, and his cheeks reddened. "It wasn't your fault," I murmured. "He tricked you."

"Shut up," he spat. "It was my fault. I should've been smarter, should've considered the possibility of him betraying me. But I let him take advantage of me…"

I held him tighter. "Calm down. It's fine. You said yourself that you were young and stupid. Everyone makes mistakes when they're young."

"They don't kill a ruler and get their families threatened!" he denied. "I'm a fucking disgrace!" His voice cracked on the last word, and he wiped his eyes. Was he going to cry again?

"Calm down," I repeated. "You're not a disgrace. You're still here, aren't you? And your siblings are still alive. Don't be upset. You're one of the strongest people I know."

He scoffed. "You must not know many people."

"Why are you so guarded?" I asked. "I told you that you didn't have to act so indifferent to your strength."

He sighed. "You're confusing me," he mumbled.

"What? How so?"

"Because you said earlier that you didn't want me to be strong, but now you're saying that you want me to embrace strength. Which one is it?"

I sighed. "It's not that I don't want you to be strong. It's that I don't want you pretend that you are when you don't feel like you are. You guard what you're truly feeling behind that facade, and when someone tries to give you comfort, you feign strength."

"I'm not used to it," he grumbled.

"What? Being weak?"

"No. Being...being comforted like this. It's odd and foreign to me, especially at this age. I haven't been...held like this since I was a child."

"No one's too old for comfort." I lowered my voice to a tender murmur. "I don't think you're weak because of this. I don't think I ever will." I cupped his cheek and kissed him. "You don't have to keep going if you don't want to. I can see that the memories are painful."

Though he concealed it with a scowl, I saw trust forming in his eyes. "If you shut up about my emotions, I'll continue."

I nodded. "Understood." I assumed my previous position. "Go ahead."

After averting his gaze, he continued, "So as I said, Ikasma had spies in the palace. Luckily for me, one of those spies was part of the group guarding me, and he recognized me as a Silver Blood. After about a month or so of planning, the night of my escape came. He slipped a chemical that induced sleep into the other guards' drinks, and once they were harmless, he released me. We escaped through the catacombs, but we didn't stop running even after the palace was out of sight. No, we didn't stop until we were deep in the woods. So deep that we questioned if we'd ever make it back to civilization.

"But after a few days, we managed to make it to a village. We were going to rest there until morning, and then we would return to Ikasma. He didn't know about the lie; I don't think anyone did except for Ikasma and me. I told him that I wanted to stop being a Blood, and we went our separate ways.

"The moment we separated I returned home, where I found my siblings unharmed. I didn't tell them about what had happened with Ikasma. I didn't need them worrying about me. I stayed home with them for awhile, making sure they were safe. But that was my third mistake."

"Third? What happened to the second?"

"I'm getting to that," he assured. "Anyway, they told me that they saw shadows outside the windows, and suspicious people were lingering around the village. I made preparations to investigate, and one night I went off. When I came back, however, our home was on fire. Kanako and Tomoe were safe, thankfully, but it became apparent that they wouldn't be if I stayed. I don't know for sure, but I'm fairly certain that the guard I'd parted ways with gave me away to Ikasma, who wanted to eliminate me. The day after the fire, I left them with a close family friend and left.

"For two years after I lived everywhere and nowhere, all at the same time. Through those two years I avoided Ikasma and the Silver Bloods' attempts at killing me. No matter where I went, my life was always threatened. Eventually, when I was about twenty-one, a group of five was pursuing me through the woods. Luckily for me they were terrible shots, but unluckily they were on horses while I was on foot. I managed to kill their horses, though, which allowed me to cover a bit more ground while they recovered. But as always, luck was never on my side. The direction I ran in led me to a massive waterfall.

"I had two options: either jump off the cliff and die, or give myself up to Ikasma's men and either be killed or tortured. I chose the cliff. As I was falling I was convinced that I was going to die, but a small part of me didn't want to accept that. So I made a rash decision and started flailing about. By some miracle I managed to grab a branch, but I was still too far up to drop down without injury. Having no voice, I dropped down. In those five minutes between reaching the cliff and grabbing the branch, luck decided to like me. I was spared, but my arm was broken and I'd fractured my back in a few places. Ikasma's men probably thought I was dead, but I didn't want to risk it. So I dragged myself through the woods, though my injuries didn't let me get too far. But then luck struck again, and I ran into someone who was willing to help me. That someone was Isogai." He yawned. "And then—"

"It's fine," I interrupted. "I can see that you're tired. You can tell me the rest another time, if you want."

"You're sure?"

I nodded. "To be honest, I don't think I'll be able to comprehend anything else you tell me. That's a lot to take in."

"It was a lot to experience, too," he mumbled.

"I can see why. No one should have to go through that." And he wouldn't suffer. Not again. Not ever. I wouldn't let him suffer.

"Are you going to let go now?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"You need to let me go. I need to go to where I'm sleeping."

I hesitated. "Ah...right…about that…"

My arms didn't leave Souichi as we slept, and though I had another bruise forming on my cheek, I smiled until morning.


	9. Chapter 9

When morning did come, my smile widened even further. Through the grogginess clouding the edges of my vision, I took in the beautiful sight of his silvery blonde hair. Careful not to jar him, I turned Souichi in my hold so he faced me. He looked so cute when he slept. He had youthful features anyway, but now he looked so much younger than twenty-five. Was this what he looked like when he was eighteen? His story last night had me intrigued. He probably didn't look too different, but seven years was a substantial amount of time. Obviously his hair would've been shorter; he'd started growing it out after he'd escaped. How did it look short? Was it just how it looked tied back without the tie? Ugh, so many questions that I couldn't answer!

Well, I _could_ answer that question. All I needed was a pair of shears. But I could never cut his hair off! Never! It'd be like cutting one of his arms off! Er, well, maybe it wouldn't be that severe of a loss to him. But it would be to me! His hair was beautiful! It was as if angels had woven strands of silk and sewn them right into his head. That had to be the reason; there was no other way his hair could be so soft! Unless...no, he was too vulgar to be a nymph. But he had the features of one. Slender body, milky skin, bright eyes—maybe in a different life he _was_ a nymph…

I rested my forehead against his and sighed. He was adorable, asleep or awake. He'd never admit it, of course; if I told him that he was adorable, he'd blush and stammer about how I was speaking nonsense. But it wasn't nonsense. It was the truth. Especially if he gave me such an innocent look. I loved him for that cuteness; I loved him for a lot of things.

I kissed his lips with a sweet tenderness. I'd missed being able to touch him and love him like this. I hadn't done this very often when I was his captive; at least, not as much as I would've liked. He probably thought it was more than enough; too much, even. But me...I could stay here all day, holding him close and admiring how pretty he was. I would've, too, if he wouldn't have yelled at and assaulted me. Then again, there were drugs that I could use to keep him groggy and vulnerable—but that wouldn't be fair. Though he would look even more adorable if he was drowsy...

I realized that I hadn't released his mouth from my own, and while I had full intention to, I didn't pull back. I couldn't. Not whenever my forbidden fruit lay right before me, ripe for the picking. And he wasn't fighting! There was no way I could resist that!

So not only did I keep kissing him, I deepened the kiss. Tilting my head to the side, I slipped my tongue into his mouth. This wasn't my first time around a mouth, his or otherwise. But exploration had always delighted me, especially when the place I explored felt so good...

Shifting my position so I lay atop him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and swirled my tongue around his. I groaned into his mouth, and after a bit of listening, I found that he'd joined me. Instantly I ripped my mouth off of his and froze. Had he woken up? My bruises probably looked terrible; they felt awful. Was I going to gain another one?

He shifted a little under me, but he didn't stir. I let out a silent sigh of relief. He wasn't awake.

I didn't resume kissing him, however. Not at first, anyway. Instead I just stared down at him. I'd heard since I was young that people moved and talked in their sleep due to their dreams. Was Souichi dreaming? If so, what about? Freedom? Drinking? The woods?

Me?

No, he probably wasn't dreaming about me. If he was, it wasn't in a good way. Not the way I dreamed about him. We always held each other in my dreams, whether on a balcony beneath twinkling stars or on a bearskin rug before a roaring fire. He'd have his head resting in the crook of my neck, smiling softly as I ran my fingers through his hair. I loved him, and in my dreams, he loved me back. He'd murmur those words into my ear, and with tingles in my heart I'd murmur the same.

With a sigh I kissed him again, though softer and shallower than last time. My desire for his body had given way to a desire for his heart, and when I kissed him the third time, it was the last time. After that, I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes. The sun was just barely peeking into the windows; we didn't need to wake up yet. Not whenever the morning was already so perfect.

"I love you," I murmured into his skin.

He mumbled something in his sleep, and though I couldn't make out what he'd said, I imagined that he'd said the same.


	10. Chapter 10

With a grunt I finally managed to pry the comb free from my hair, taking a clump of the blonde strands with it. The part of my head to which the hair I ripped out was attached stung like fuck, but at least the matted section was apart. It took five minutes of my life that I wouldn't be able to get back, but it was relatively worth it. How the hell did it get so knotted, anyway? And why just in that one spot?

Ugh, hair was difficult. And unnecessary. All it did was lay there. It had no legitimate purpose. It looked like shit if it wasn't brushed through, it looked like shit if it wasn't washed—the only purpose it could've served was for decoration, and I had no need to use it for that. Why did I let it grow out, anyway? Granted, it did help hide my identity for a little bit, but now it was just a nuisance. And it was even more of a nuisance now, two and a half months after Morinaga had made me his 'slave.' Although, nothing slave-like happened to me in those two and a half months. For the most part I just provided him with company; he hadn't forced me to do all that much against my will. Aside from our sleeping arrangement, anyway. I'd tried many times to escape to the floor after he fell asleep, but each time I managed to get out of his hold he pulled me back in. I didn't understand how, though, since he was always asleep when I turned to berate him. Other than that, though, he'd been relatively generous. He even acquired me a new pair of glasses, after my old ones had been lost during the confrontation in the woods. Even I had to thank him for that gesture.

Setting down the comb, I glanced around. This bathroom was as large as most cottages—it had to have a pair of scissors somewhere. Open the drawers went, into them I dug. Medicine bottle, medicine bottle, probably a nail file, jewelry—why did he have jewelry?—more combs...ah, scissors! He'd kept them among rags. Odd. Usually cutting utensils were with other cutting utensils, like razors. Was he hiding them? No, that was stupid. Why would he need to hide scissors?

Using a cloth I found while rummaging through the drawers, I tied my hair tightly behind my head. I didn't have anything to run from anymore—not for now, anyway—so there was no point in keeping it long. I picked up the scissors with one hand and held the length of my hair with the other. The latter went between the two blades of the former, and I was about to bring the blades together when the most harrowing scream I'd ever had the displeasure of hearing grated across my ears.

I barely turned before something managed to rip the scissors from my hand and pull me into a tight hold. "What're you doing?!"

Morinaga. Should've known. He was the only male I knew of who could make _that_ sort of noise.

"What're _you_ doing?!" I retorted. "Let go!" I wriggled about in his hold, but he had my arms pinned at my sides. Why the hell was he so strong?

"Don't do it!" he shouted. "Please, don't do it!"

"Do what?" I grunted as I shoved back against him; it was all I could do without arms to help. "Let go!"

"Not until you promise me you won't do it!"

"Not until you tell me what I shouldn't do!"

"Promise me first!"

"Tell me first!"

"No! Just say you won't do it!"

Oh, he was getting punched… "Fine!" I acquiesced. "I won't do it! Now let go!"

The moment his arms left me I cracked the back of my fist across his temple. He let out a cry before landing on the floor with a thud. Holding the side of his head, he sat up. He was about to say something, but something caught his attention, and he turned his head toward somewhere that wasn't me. "I'm coming!" he called.

"Where are you—?"

"I have to go," he interrupted.

"Go where?" He stood from the floor and left the bathroom. "Hey, Morinaga! Where're you going?"

I heard the door close, along with it any chance I had for immediate response. I leaned against the counter and stared at the spot where he'd been just moments earlier. What the hell was that? What was that scream for? And where was he going?

My eyes drifted to where he'd thrown the scissors. Was that what he'd screamed about? Not cutting my hair off? What the hell was wrong with him? It was just hair. Did it really matter that much to him?

He was a strange creature, once capable of crying one minute and being completely cheery the next. Or going from desperate to ominous in a span of two seconds. Why was he like that? And why was he so concerned about me?

And why was I now so concerned about _him_?


	11. Chapter 11

The sinking feeling that had developed within my stomach fell through completely. I knew this would happen. The moment I stopped the execution two and a half months ago, I knew that something bad would happen. It always did. Every time I found myself in a position of happiness, something pushed me out.

It started out slowly, like rust developing on a sword. In the beginning, the blade gleamed in the sunlight, heavenly and bright—the envy of all others. No force stood a chance against that blade, whether another of its kind of an obstacle in need of elimination. As time went on, however, the wielder grew comfortable in the sword's abilities. He would see upkeep as less of a necessity—maybe lengthening the time between sharpenings, or perhaps only cleaning the blade when necessary. Eventually the wielder would grow so comfortable and confident that he wouldn't keep the sword in shape at all.

"There's no need," he'd say. "What'll happen to it?"

He says this with certainty, as if the sword was crafted by the gods themselves and therefore couldn't be damaged. But that was not true certainty; it was foolhardy certainty, born out of arrogance.

One day the sword's owner stores his weapon away. "I don't need it," he claims. "Not now. I'll wait until I need to use it."

So time passes. Slowly at first, just days and weeks, crawling along like a slug on the ground. Life progresses as normal, but the sword remains in the wielder's mind. Then time lengthens, stretching those weeks into months and those months into years. Life continues to progress. New memories are made, of both happiness and sadness. But to add new knowledge, old knowledge must be taken out. The sword's presence grows smaller and smaller, until eventually it fades away entirely.

A few years elapse, and with the force of a whip crack, conflict arises. Battles pop up like sores on a leper, and blood spews like pus. The threat inches closer and closer to the home of the wielder. Men dig out their weapons and prepare them to fight. Immediately the wielder digs out his trusty sword from where he'd stored it. Even though years have passed, he doesn't prepare it. He doesn't even remove it from the sheath! His confidence in the blade is that great.

Days pass, and sure enough the battle comes. Finally the sword leaves the sheath, and for the first time in so long the metal gets to breathe. But it takes shallow breaths, for its lungs are blocked by scars and scabs. Neglect morphed into rust, to the point where the blade was useless. The wielder's eyes are wide with shock, and at that moment he realizes his mistake. Something good isn't kept if you grow so comfortable with it that you neglect it.

While the aspects of that story and mine were wholly different, the principle remained the same. I'd been on edge in the beginning of mine and Souichi's new relationship as 'master and slave.' But that was only for the first few days. After that, Kunihiro grew distant in my mind. We rarely talked—hell, we rarely saw one another at all. Our lives went on separately, only coming together when there was no way to avoid it. Foolishly I'd deluded myself into thinking that he'd stopped caring about Souichi. For two and a half months I believed that.

"I can't change your preference," he told me, "even though I wish I could. Hating you over it's pointless, so...I'll try to accept it at least a little from now on."

I widened my eyes at that. He...he accepted my homosexuality…? Really? After all the hatred he'd given me for it? I nearly shot up from my seat and hugged him when he'd told me that. But I knew that'd ruin the moment.

"However," he continued.

All traces of happiness disappeared from my being. Of course there was a 'however.' When wasn't there one?

"I don't have to accept who your...partners are."

My eyes widened. He knew?

As if reading my mind, he said, "I learned from a few rumors that you'd had sex with a few of the prisoners you'd visited. I'm wholly convinced that attraction is the reason why you saved the assassin."

"You can't do anything about it," I said. My tone burst with defensiveness, but I didn't care. It was all I could do to keep from panicking.

"Originally, no," he admitted. "I couldn't. But I poked around a little. Turns out there's a condition that goes along with Captive's Choice. It's true that you, the former captive, can dictate his punishment. And that dictation will overrule anyone's declaration, including the current ruler." His eyes narrowed. "But only if the crime being replaced was non-lethal."

My heart crashed to a halt for a few moments.

"If the crime being replaced is lethal, the law still applies that I can't overrule it. But only for three months after the replacement is put in place."

Now everything stopped. It was...it wasn't valid forever…? No...no! This couldn't be! It just...it just couldn't!

"He'll be executed two weeks from now. Prepare yourself accordingly."

The scene had to have played through my head a hundred times. Maybe even more. I couldn't tell. The parts of my mind not replaying that event currently drowned in darkness. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did this always have to happen? Why couldn't I be happy? Was that so much to ask for? Just a period of time where I could love and be loved without threat—that's all I wanted. That's all I _ever_ wanted!

But no. No, of course I couldn't get that. But I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Someone I treasured being taken from me; just my luck.

All of my past relationships with lovers ended up this way. We would have a fiery, passionate romance, during which we both felt love with a force greater than the harshest storm. But most of those lovers had only accompanied me for a week or so. The lengthiest one I'd had lasted a mere two months. Keeping a legitimate lover was difficult, considering the amount of hiding we had to do to keep our relationships a secret. The separations had always been difficult; I couldn't recall a single moment when I'd gotten out of a relationship without some degree of pain involved. But I always managed to leave those lovers, and each time I did so without too much difficulty.

But Souichi...he was different. All the lovers I'd had in the past were whores compared to him—whores with nothing more to offer than sex. Granted, Souichi didn't have the best disposition. He was violent and unstable, not to mention dishonest and stubborn. Frustratingly so at times. Especially when it came to his feelings. I'd attempted to broach the topic a few times, but he'd either shut me out or harmed me before I could say anything more.

But that dishonesty itself was dishonest. He wasn't actually like that. Not fully, anyway. He hadn't shown it often, but compassion lay behind that irritated glare. Compassion that sent my heart fluttering. That compassion was the reason why I'd fallen in love with him. During my time with him at his fortress, he'd allowed me to see a gentler, more vulnerable side to him. I could tell that he hadn't shown it to anyone else, and if he had, he hadn't done it for awhile.

And after hearing his past...how couldn't I want to love him? I didn't know for certain, but I suspected that Ikasma character had meant a lot to him. I didn't think it was legitimate love; Souichi insisted heavily that he wasn't attracted to men—not emotionally, anyway. Whatever the feeling between them was, however, it was the closest thing to love that Souichi could have for someone not related to him. The betrayal had killed him. The Souichi that he'd been when he was eighteen had died alongside my father that day in the past. And this...this bitter, hateful, tyrannical, destructive creature had occupied his body afterward. The creature wrapped not only his body, but also his heart in chains. Heavy chains with a complex lock for which there was no key. But it wasn't just that creature—it may have done the wrapping, but Ikasma had crafted the chains. He was the reason why Souichi's body was surrounded in a thick layer of thorns and further guarded by enough arrows to arm an entire army. He'd imprisoned Souichi's heart.

But he hadn't killed it.

It was wilted and dry, but his heart wasn't dead. It could still come alive again. All it needed was a little bit of care. His heart was like a flower: it couldn't bloom without water. I'd make sure it bloomed. _I_ would make it bloom. And when it did...its petals would be the most beautiful of any rose.

* * *

"Escape?"

I nodded. "That's the only way that you can definitely avoid being executed."

With an uneasy groan he turned away from me. His fingers ran through his hair, which he hadn't cut after I'd left him. Thankfully. I didn't think I could handle hearing of one tragedy and witnessing the aftermath of another. Not in such a short span of time.

His reaction hadn't been the one that I'd envisioned. I hadn't expected him to panic—that wasn't like him—but I also hadn't expected such a calm reaction. I thought there'd at least be one shout involved, if not two or three. But instead he exuded exasperation.

"You're sure there's no other way?" he asked.

I blinked. "I'm doubtful. I can only call Captive's Choice once."

He replied with a thoughtful noise. "And there's no chance of your brother being persuaded otherwise?"

I shook my head. Then, dawning upon me that his back was to me, I said, "No."

Another thoughtful noise. "And you still refuse to kill—?"

"I'm not going to kill him," I interrupted. Why did topics like murder always have to pop up in his mind whenever solving a problem was involved?

He sighed, and I was fully convinced that every part of him that generated exasperation now stood empty. "Wonderful," he mumbled. "Absolutely wonderful."

"Ah...Senpai? What's the…?" My voice trailed off.

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "What?"

"Ah...it's nothing, really…"

His gaze went flat along with his tone. "What?"

"Well...I just...you don't seem all that excited about escape…I thought you'd be happier."

"How can I be?" he grumbled, turning away once more.

He sounded so...disappointed… I blinked. Did...did that mean...did that mean he _liked_ being here with me? Did he _like_ the relationship we had? Did...did he like _me_?

I opened my mouth to ask him, then snapped it shut before any words could escape. If I asked him that, he'd probably hurt me, regardless of how calmly he reacted to the other information I'd shared.

"What do you mean?" I asked. This should've been a safe enough way to get what I wanted out of him. "You don't want to escape?"

"Not...necessarily…"

I blushed lightly. "Why not?"

"Because I…" His voice lowered, but it was just loud enough that I could make out what he said. "...don't want you to get hurt…"

My heart swelled three sizes, and a smile stretched across my face. He...he cared about me…

Somehow he must have seen my expression even with his back turned. Souichi stiffened in place. "But...i-it's not...I…" He stammered out a few more words before falling silent.

Tentatively I approached him. My arms wound around his waist from behind. If possible, he stiffened further. That stiffness lasted a mere moment before he started to struggle. Even through his shouting and wriggling, I didn't move an inch.

"You're worried about my safety?" I asked. "Really?"

Seemingly realizing it was pointless to continue fighting, he stood still in my hold. "It's...don't misconstrue what I say," he berated.

I couldn't keep my smile small. That was so like him. And so cute! "Who said anything about misconstruing? I just want to know if I heard you right."

He narrowed his eyes back at me but only for a moment. "I don't want you hurt because you don't deserve to be," he said. "If you accompany me, you'll be a target, too."

"Target?"

He nodded. "Execution of the assassin who killed the former king isn't minor news. I'm sure word of the first execution spread like disease, and the second one undoubtedly will spread faster."

I nodded. "And?"

Agitation slipped into his tone. " _And_ , that means it's known that I'm alive. If I escape, that means I'm alive and in the nation somewhere."

I stared down at him. Once realization hit me, my eyes widened. "You think you'll be gone after by bandits looking for profit?"

He shook his head. "Well, those will probably be an issue, too, but they're insects compared to the real threat." He paused for a moment. "Remember what I told you? About Ikasma's men attacking me."

I nodded again. A soft chuckle escaped my throat. "Senpai, don't worry. They won't attack you. You said they stopped, didn't they? After you…" I ceased speaking, knowing that he'd just berate me more. "Oh...I see…"

"Took you long enough," he muttered. "I'm sure Ikasma's heard about me, and I'm confident that he's still holding that murderous intent against me. The attacks will start up again if I escape. That's why I wanted an alternative to escape." He sighed. "But if there's no other way, I suppose that I can find a way to fake my death again."

He mumbled a few sentences of planning, but I could tell that they were directed to himself. Instead, I focused on what he had said before. _I don't want you getting hurt. You don't deserve to be._ No matter how he tried to deny it, he cared. He cared about my life. He cared about _me_.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek. The action drew him out of his thoughts, and he tensed. "Wh-What're you—?"

"Can I ask you something?" Without waiting for him to reply, I continued, "Why is it that you assumed I'd be coming with you if you escaped?"

He didn't hesitate to answer, but his speech wasn't smooth. "You...that's because you wouldn't give me the option! You'd...you'd cling to my leg and cry and beg to come with me!"

I chuckled again. There was no way I could deny that. "Still...that was your concern about escape?"

"What?"

"Me getting hurt. That was the reason why you didn't want to escape. Right?"

He went silent once more, but I could feel heat radiating from his cheeks. "I...I-Ikasma was the reason!" he denied. "Not you. That came after."

"But it still came." I kissed him again, this time closer to his lips. "I'm glad that you're concerned about me. Even if it wasn't the first thought you had."

He moved his head away from me. "You say weird shit," he mumbled.

"Maybe so," I allowed with a shrug. "But it's all truthful."

"Bullshit…"

I sighed. Seems he was still in denial that he could be loved. "Um...can I ask you something else?"

"What now? If it's about emotions—"

"It's not," I assured. "Just...well...why were you going to cut your hair earlier?"

"Because it's annoying," he replied. "It's long and gets tangled as hell and unnecessary. The real question is, why were you screaming when I tried?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "It...I'd miss it if you cut it off."

He turned my way with a furrowed brow and skeptical eye. "What nonsense do you speak of now?"

"It's not nonsense. I love your hair the way it is now. It's soft and pretty and the color's beautiful."

His gaze went flat. "It'd be the same color if it was shorter. And probably the same softness."

"That's true, but it wouldn't be as fun to play with when you—" I halted. Shit, I'd said too much…

"When I, what?"

"Ah...n-nothing…"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"Morinaga."

" _Fine_ ," I sighed. "When you fall asleep, I...I sometimes play with your hair…"

He stared, far more indifferently than I'd expected. "How?"

"Uh...well...combing it with my fingers...and sometimes braiding it…"

"You know how to braid?"

I nodded.

He looked away, and I could see the embarrassment creeping up on his cheeks. "Can...can you teach me how?"

I stared. "What? Why do you want to know?"

He sighed. "Well, you're going to cry if I cut it off, and I want to spare myself from that annoyance. If I know how to do...that, I should be able to keep it out of my way a little more than it is now. That way it doesn't get tangled in shit like it does now."

A smile lit my features. "All right. Sit down on the bed and I'll teach you."


	12. Chapter 12

I looked up from the parchment I'd been writing on to view Morinaga closing the door. In his left hand he held a cylindrically-shaped paper, while in the other he held a bow, knife, and sword. Slung over his shoulder was a quiver full of arrows.

"You managed to get them," I commented, rising from my seat at his desk.

"It wasn't easy," he mumbled. Though I didn't think that was the reason, his expression looked as if he hadn't slept in days. "I had to pull a few strings to get all of this." He set the small arsenal on his bed unceremoniously. "The map especially."

"What strings?"

His expression darkened further. "I don't want to talk about it. You probably don't want to hear of it, either."

It dawned upon me what he implied, and I didn't continue the topic. Instead, I grabbed the paper. The weapons were barely of any importance without it. Removing the band keeping its form rolled, I unfurled the paper until it lay flat on the desk. Before me lay the map to the palace's catacombs. A crudely-drawn map, yes, but drawn well enough that I could visualize the layout. A thick black line marked the location of the barricades; squares marked the dungeon cells, split so that some resided on the west side while others were on the east. Red-colored marks separated entrances and exits, of which there were three in total.

I felt him stare down at the map over my shoulder. "Is that what you needed?" he asked.

I tensed a little; why was he so close? "Yeah," I affirmed. "You actually did better than I thought you would've. Everything's marked and labeled. How'd you manage to get that?"

"Ah...let's just say I negotiated well…"

I grimaced at the images his words conjured up. "All right. Well, anyway, good work. These should assist in planning the escape route."

The smile in his voice was audible. "Th-Thank you…"

Brushing off how happy he sounded, I grabbed the charcoal stick I'd been writing with earlier and pointed to the map. "I think I know how we can get out of here properly. But you have to agree to it before I tell you."

That happiness faded from his tone, and I couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. "Why's that?"

"Because I need you to," I replied.

"Can't you at least tell me a little first?" he tried.

I shook my head. "No. One sentence and you'll start screaming." Well, he'd start screaming anyway, but that was beside the point.

"One sentence and I'll agree."

"No sentences and you'll agree," I countered.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Please?" Desperation seeped into his voice. "Is it really that bad?"

"Bad enough that I doubt you'll actually be in agreement if I told you," I allowed. "Just agree if you want to know so badly." Honestly, was it that hard to do?

"But I—"

"Agree or I allow myself to be executed," I interrupted, my voice brimming with darkness.

At that, all traces of disobedience and disagreement disappeared. "Fine," he sighed. "I agree to your plan."

I nodded. Finally, he did something sensible. "Well, first of all, it's extremely risky. But if it works, the payoff will be worth it." I marked the main entrance to the catacombs with the stick. "We start here."

"There? But that's the most obvious spot! We'll get caught!"

I clenched the edge of the desk to keep from hitting him. One sentence had sparked his screaming. Wonderful. "If you'd let me finish, you'd know why." Without waiting for him to reply, I continued, "This is going to happen the day before I'm scheduled to be 'executed.' They'll most likely want to keep me in a holding cell. Anyway, this whole thing relies heavily on you." Regrettably. "You chose the initial punishment for me, so you'll have a right to come with the party escorting me."

"What if they don't allow me?" he questioned.

"Then follow stealthily behind. Either way will work, that way possibly better. It all depends on your stealth skill." Though something told me he wasn't very inclined in that area. Not in his actions, anyway. "The last time I escaped here, the other guards were put to sleep by a drug. Well, I doubt that'll work this time around. But there were rumors going around the crime world that a new type of weapon was being developed here in the capital. Small bombs, filled not with shrapnel but with chemicals and gases. If they contained the right materials, they could do more damage than shrapnel ever could."

"I've heard of those," Morinaga commented. "I was given a few of them before I left for Reinorok."

"What chemicals did they have?"

"Poisons, I think. I didn't actually use any of them, though. There wasn't any need."

Suddenly I recalled our first encounter, and for once I appreciated his pacifist nature. He could've easily released the bombs on my group when we abducted him.

"W-Wait, you're not planning on _using_ poison, are you?" he worried. "I...I don't want to kill anyone…"

Great. The annoying pacifist was coming out. "I don't think you'll have to. At least, not if the rumors that I heard were true. Supposedly, there's a group of illegal merchants in this city posing as apothecaries. But instead of reagents and vials, they're selling poisons and bombs. One of those bombs has a gas inside that induces sleep if inhaled directly. All you have to do is get one of those bombs and we're good."

"You want me to purchase illegal bombs?" he surmised.

I nodded. "That's the idea. But since I know you'll end up getting your head cut off or your heart ripped out, I'll have to come with you. You need someone who knows the underworld to go to the underworld." I smirked at him over my shoulder. "Luckily for you, I've been around quite a bit."

He blinked at me, though I couldn't discern why. Was it really that surprising to hear? He knew that I'd lived seven years of my life as a criminal.

"Hey. Are you listening or not?"

His blinking gained a little speed, and with a flinch he said, "Y-Yeah, I'm listening. I just got...sidetracked right now." He shook his head. "But I do have one question."

I groaned. He wasn't listening after all. "What is it?"

"How do you know they'll take you seriously? They're illegal weapons dealers, and you're a kidnapping bandit. I don't know much about the underworld, but I know that different niches exist and that people from different niches sometimes don't mix well."

I had to scoff at that. "We'll be fine," I assured.

"But can you really say that for sure?"

"Of course I can. You're right that I deal in kidnapping, but I didn't always. When my ring started up, we dealt in smuggling and manufacturing drugs."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

I couldn't help the proudness in my voice. "Yeah. Though there were only about ten of us at the time, our methods and profit rivaled those of huge operations. We only stopped because of how dangerous getting power would prove."

"All right," Morinaga allowed, albeit uneasily. "So I get one of those bombs and use it. Then what?"

Returning my gaze to the map, I pointed to the eastern block of cells. "That's where I was held last time I escaped. If I recall correctly…" I sketched out the route to the best of my ability. "...I think that's how we went."

"There's so many barricades now," he mumbled. "You really think we'll be able to get through them?"

"The barricades are wooden, right?"

"For the most part. Some are stone walls, but most are a mix of wood and stone. We could burn them down, most likely. The wood part, anyway."

 _Obviously,_ I thought. _Stone doesn't burn._

"I assume you have matches."

"Of course. I'll make sure to smuggle them whenever we do this."

"You would've had to, anyway. The bombs require fires to ignite. Unless they made a new version that I'm unaware of." Knowing the world of underground weaponry the way that I did, that could very well be possible. Either way he'd need matches. Hopefully, though, they'd spark more than just the bombs if he acquired them.

* * *

As soon as we stood before the entrance to _Remedia_ , I knew instantly why a trope of illegal bomb-makers could live so easily in the capital. From our position on the sidewalk, the medicinal shop appeared as nothing more than that—a medicinal shop. It radiated austerity, with its simple brown walls and simple sign hanging above the door. Its single window was curtained from the inside, and a second sign inside displayed the word 'closed' for all the world to see.

"You're sure this is the right place?" Morinaga asked. The unease in his voice made me roll my eyes. Of course I was sure. Why would I have taken him here if I wasn't?

Despite all the ways I could reply—most of which would've jabbed him in one way or another—I chose a simple, "Yeah," as my response.

"But it's closed!" he objected.

All urge for cordiality faded along with all emotion in my expression. He was. So. Stupid. "How blind are you?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

I pointed to the door. "Of course it says it's closed. Why would they want normal people buying bombs at this time of night?"

Even his heart seemed to tense at that. "Why're you talking so openly?" he hissed. Clearly he'd aimed to whisper, but he'd failed miserably. I wasn't fazed. "What if we get heard?"

"Very blind," I mumbled. Grabbing his shoulders, I turned the oblivious prince back toward the street. "Think for a moment. Do _any_ of the people out here seem respectable in regular circles?"

Darkness did cast a veil over the capital hours earlier, but poles sticking out of the ground at regular intervals provided illumination in the form of lanterns. In the daylight hours the streets would be teeming with the esteemed and wealthy, but in the nighttime they crawled with the lecherous and unsavory. Some well-dressed people did remain, but if they got close enough for us to see their faces, even at his blindest Morinaga could've seen they dabbled in illegalities at night. But for the most part the rag-wearing, ale-drinking, shit-breathing denizens of the city now roamed the streets. Even the criminal world had spectrums and subdivisions and classes. There were bandits, kidnappers, murderers, hired murderers, thieves, ransom-collectors, bounty hunters, drug-smugglers—and all of those could be found on this strip of buildings alone. Behind those crimes were people ranging from young pickpockets trying to keep from starving all the way up to hardened malefactors with control of entire cities.

I fell somewhere between a highly-effective bandit and a ruthless slave driver. Either way, I had enough reputation to gain respect but lacked the amount necessary to hold drastic influence. And if the rumors about those working here were true…

"They don't," Morinaga finally replied.

"Oh, good, you can at least see a little," I sighed, dropping my hold on his shoulders. "Anyway, everyone here most likely knows what this place really is and what this place really sells. Just trust me on this. I know what I'm doing."

He nodded once but didn't reply.

With no hesitation in my movements, I grabbed the door handle and pulled. Unsurprisingly it opened, but only enough to accommodate a rat. A thin but strong silver chain hindered movement. Again, unsurprisingly.

"See? I told you!"

"Shut up before I cut you," I hissed at him. Turning back to the door, I said, "Services required."

If there was a clock anywhere near here, its smallest hand would've ticked twice around the face before anything happened. A single eye appeared in the space, and I could smell leaves and opium on his breath. "What is it?"

"Got anything to treat explosive diseases?"

The eye stared at me for a few moments more, then the door shut. Morinaga said something in protest, but I didn't listen. All I heard was the click of the lock sliding. When I tried the door again, it opened fully.

I glanced over my shoulder at Morinaga. "Don't doubt me again," I told him.

He nodded vigorously. "I-I won't."

"Good."

The interior of the shop looked as any other would. A large counter sat at the back of the space for transactions, and shelves on the walls displayed various bottles and reagents. Another curtain hung behind the counter, a tiny light peering out from under it.

I turned to Morinaga. "Hold still." Reaching into the bag I'd packed but given to him, I withdrew a black cloth. I reached up—he was taller than me but not by much—and tied the cloth around his mouth.

"What's this for?" he asked. The makeshift mask only slightly muffled his voice. Not only would his voice be obscured a little, but his complaining would also come a little quieter.

"So we don't get stabbed the moment we walk in," I told him.

"What if they ask me to take it off?"

"You say no."

"What if they threaten me?"

"You threaten them back."

"What if they don't believe me?"

"Then _I'll_ threaten them back."

Though his mouth was concealed, I knew he was smiling. "You'll defend me?"

I glared at him. Not wanting to dirty the knife he'd lent me, I brought my nails across his exposed arm. With a yelp Morinaga jumped.

"What was that for?!"

"I said I'd cut you if you didn't shut up," I told him. "Gods, are you deaf, too?"

"But I—"

I held up my fingers, bent and poised in claw-like position.

He quieted after that.

Through the curtain and down a staircase we went, and instantly it felt like home. The pungent odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke instantly greeted us as we stepped into the store-laboratory hybrid. The room was circular in shape but possessed two levels, the upper of which we stood on now. Tables dotted the upper level, full of tubes and bottles arranged into complex shapes. Colorful liquids flowed from bottle to bottle, and some even plumed out of those bottles to create gases of varying thicknesses. Around those tables clustered men and women, doing everything from mashing plants with stone pestles to pouring the final products gleaned from the bottles into vials and containers.

The lower level—connected to the upper one by short staircases scattered about the space—displayed a slew of merchandise. People also milled about there, though instead of being dressed in the same dull clothing there was more variety in dress. A few scruffy-looking bastards sat at a few tables, speaking with potential customers and undoubtedly attempting to oversell their merchandise.

I'd spent about two years of my bandit career in a laboratory such as this. It was only natural that my nose had grown accustomed to the pungent odors wafting about the air. Morinaga, however, to my knowledge, had never visited this sort of environment before. If he had, it hadn't been for long. Even with the mask on he coughed and groaned. I did the latter, too, but for different reasons.

"This place is awful," Morinaga said, coughs interrupting his words.

"You'll live," I assured. "Just steel your balls and you'll be fine."

"What?"

"Deal with it," I spat.

I didn't know if it was a sigh or a wheeze, but he made some kind of noise in reply.

A quick examination of the lower level later, I found that the scruffiest of scruffy-looking bastards sat alone at his table. Not wanting our opportunity compromised and knowing Morinaga would probably pass out if he stood any longer, I strode down the steps. Confidence circled about me, and when I took my seat, I didn't just sit. I sat, leaned back, and propped my feet up on the table. Morinaga chose to sit quietly at my side.

Scruffiest Bastard seemed unfazed. It was difficult to tell, though, considering that his beard took up half of his face and a patch covered one of his eyes. The other one had cataracts clouding it, and I wondered for a moment if he could see us at all. But that was stupid—no, that was _Morinaga-level_ stupidity. I shuddered; how could I _ever_ do something that fell into that category? I'd have to watch my thoughts more carefully.

"Oh, look a'chu," Scruffiest Bastard mocked. His voice was a mixture of tobacco abuse and alcohol abuse. Is that what I'd sound like in the future? No, that wouldn't happen. I didn't smoke or drink _that_ much. "Waltzin' in here like you own the damn place."

"And look at you," I replied. "Sittin' on your ass while everyone else is busting theirs."

He scoffed. "Mouthy little bastard, ain't ya?"

"Dirty fucking shitbag, aren't you?"

He chuckled now. "A'ight, a'ight, I got it, yer ballsy. So what brings ya here today?"

"I'm looking for some shit to help a little issue." I nodded to Morinaga. "My associate here needs something to satisfy insomnia."

His gaze shifted to Morinaga for a brief moment. "Oh? What kind?"

"Explosive," I replied.

I knew he took the hint, but his eyes didn't leave Morinaga. "What's yer story?" he asked. "What's with the mask?"

"Why does it matter?" he responded. It was a decent reply, but his voice held a raspy edge that would undoubtedly make him sound weaker.

"'Cause the only people who wear masks are the ones doing the work. Some chemicals are toxic, after all."

"Shouldn't you be glad I'm wearing it, then? If your customers get sick or die, you don't make money. And then you get a bad reputation, so you make even less by losing customers."

Both Scruffiest Bastard and I stared at him. I almost wanted to applaud; even with that raspiness he sounded convincing.

"Guess that's valid," Scruffiest Bastard allowed. "But no one's died here yet."

"That you know of," Morinaga finished.

The merchant scowled but looked back at me. "You want sleep bombs?"

I nodded. "Two should be enough. Whatever the cost, he'll cover it." I jerked my thumb in Morinaga's direction. He brought enough gold to buy everything in the place and have enough left over to buy the property.

"Now hold on," he said. "I didn't say anything about purchase. They're highly experimental, and extremely difficult to make. I ain't sure if you really wanna buy 'em."

"We are." Morinaga and I glanced at each other for a brief moment after our unison-spoken words.

Scruffiest Bastard shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"All right," I said. "Then let's go hypothetical—if we _were_ sure, and you _did_ believe us, how much would we be looking at paying?"

"Well, if you put it in those terms…hmm…" He looked up and scratched his beard. I was fully confident that three flies, a worm, and a newborn rat had fallen out of there. "Probably about...eh...a thousand gold."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Morinaga's widen, but I didn't share his reaction. Instead I scoffed. "Your lies are as weak as your stench is strong," I told him.

Not only Scruffiest Bastard, but a few around us also fell silent. "The hell do you mean?" he growled.

"You heard me," I said. "You're lying to me, and you're lying to me poorly."

"Oh?"

I nodded.

"What proof do ya have of that?"

I looked around the room. "Well, if you gave me one of these 'experimental' bombs, I could give you so much proof that you'd not only eat your words but vomit them, too."

Now the entire room went silent. The only sounds came from bubbling liquids in the bottles. Scruffiest Bastard glared at me, but he rose from his seat all the same. I smirked at his back as he left and folded my arms.

"What're you doing?" Morinaga hissed.

"Making sure everyone sees that guy for the ass he is," I replied smoothly. "Exposing people's one of my favorite hobbies."

"But what if he's telling the truth?" he questioned. "Then _you'll_ look like the ass!"

I scowled, and instantly he moved back an inch. "I know many things, and one of the things I know best is when people are lying."

Something in his gaze told me he didn't believe me. Stupid asshole.

Scruffiest Bastard returned a few moments later, a rock-like sphere in his hand. Carefully he set it on the table. "It's not legitimate," he informed me. "It's been deactivated so it doesn't accidentally go off."

I took the bomb and held it up. "Standard build," I observed. "Unassuming exterior, simple fuse common in explosives." Around the circumference of the bomb was a slight gap. Carefully I twisted the top, and with tentative fingers I separated the two pieces.

The upper half was nothing special, merely a half-circle with a hole through which the fuse ran. The fun shit lay in the bottom half. It was split in two by a tiny metal wall that ran through the center. On the left lay a relatively hollow space, though the edges were laced by a grainy-looking paste. On the right, a lavender liquid pooled almost to the top edge. I held it from the absolute bottom. If any of it spilled out, I was fucked.

Otherwise, though, I'd won.

"This is a simple construction," I said. "The fuse is lit, and the fire travels into the bomb. That fire then burns in the hollow spot, which has its temperature increased by the paste. The metal then gets heated, causing the liquid to turn into a gas, which then spreads and causes whoever inhales it to get drowsy and sleep." With even more care than before I twisted the top onto the bomb and set it down. "Thus proving that you're full of more shit than your beard."

The room wasn't exactly abuzz with activity, but a few workers did whisper to one another, and some of the other merchants glanced over at Scruffiest Bastard with worried eyes. The merchant simply stared at the table.

"This is nothing innovative," I said. "It's a simple construction. Only difference between this and another smoke bomb is the kind of chemical released." I set the bomb on the table. "In short, something like this would go for about two hundred gold apiece. And that's if the liquid's extremely strong."

Scruffiest Bastard looked as if he was going to flip the table and beat my ass. Based on Morinaga's worried eyes, he felt the same way. But instead of anything violent, he rose from his seat, and I heard him grumble, "Long-haired smartass," before leaving to get our merchandise.


	13. Chapter 13

He'd set my body on fire.

There was no other explanation. He'd struck matches—the ones he was _supposed_ to save for the escape—and thrown them atop me. Yeah, that was it. It was all the fire's doing. The flames licked my skin, not him. The heat was the reason why sweat rolled off of me in bucketfuls. The smoke was the reason why my breaths came in heavy pants.

"You don't have to hold back," a deep voice murmured into my ear. The flame's voice. It had to be. "It's nothing to be embarrassed of."

Just barely I managed to open my eyes—that smoke had to be as thick as stone. "W-What...what're you…?"

Fingers trailed down my chest, a trail of reverence left in their wake. One finger brushed against an area near my nipple. I arched my back off the bed, but I cut off my gasp before it could fully escape. What the hell was that…?

"Ah, what's this?" His teasing tone made me want to hit him. "This is new."

His fingers returned to that spot on my skin, but instead of just grazing the surface, they pinched. The sensation intensified tenfold, and it took all of my willpower to keep from moaning. It didn't feel good; it _couldn't_ feel good! It was...it was just...different...and everything different that the body experienced always felt exciting. Even if it was harmful— _dangerous,_ even—to experience it at all. Saying that I'd learned that the hard way was a severe understatement.

"What is it?" The teasing was gone, replaced instead by something between curiosity and concern. "Is something wrong?"

By the grace of the gods I'd managed to compose myself. "O-Of course...I-I don't...want you...to do this…!"

He sighed in my ear. "But why? You're enjoying this so much…" His fingers left the spot, but he was nowhere near finished. A hot, wet appendage lapped at the small section of skin. His breath ghosted its way across my skin, and tingles bubbled forth from the deepest recesses of my body.

"I am not...enjoying…" Teeth sunk into my flesh, and a moan vibrated on my skin. A sound reminiscent of a whimper escaped my lips before I could bite my tongue.

"But you are," he insisted. "Look here."

I didn't want to, but it seemed he wasn't having that. He positioned himself halfway behind me and tilted my head downward, forcing me to look at my crotch. One glance and I pinched my eyes shut. How could he enjoy this so much? It looked disgusting, all red and covered in fluids I didn't know the names of. But for some reason he took delight in all of this, to the point where he wasn't even talking—just moaning. _In my ear_.

"You're dripping," he told me, "so much here." I felt his fingers on my shaft, gently stroking his way up and down. The tingles from earlier intensified, although now they were focused downward in one place.

This bastard...why was he so relentless? I'd told him that I didn't enjoy this; why wasn't he listening?! He wasn't deaf!

"I've barely touched you at all, but you're already like this…" His tongue swirled its merry way around my ear canal. I tensed with a brief breath, my cheeks heating with each rotation it made. "It's like you've been longing for me. Isn't it?"

"Shut...up..." I spat. "And stop...this…"

"Stop?" He asked it like I was a child. If I could've hit him, I would've. "But then you'd be unsatisfied. I'd be a bad lover if I let that happen."

"We're not...lovers!" I denied.

He sighed. "I know you don't think that way. But it feels that way, doesn't it?"

"The hell do you mean…?"

"Well, we're always around one another, aren't we? And we sleep in the same bed. And then, obviously, _this…_ " He squeezed my dick once before letting me go entirely. Even without the contact, my body tensed. Cannons burst from every part of me, but none as much as the one he'd stimulated. As liquid spurted from me, a sickeningly warm sensation wracked my bones, one I'd never experienced before. I remembered thinking at one point that he was magical; now I as fully convinced that he had supernatural abilities. Or, at least, his fingers did. He brought out feelings I hadn't known existed, ones that made my heart thud hard in my chest and made my skin feel like fire.

And I despised him because of it.

 _I'll never feel affection for anyone again._ I remembered the day I'd made that vow clearly. It was right after _he_ had betrayed me. That vow had held strong for seven years. No one had ever managed to get close to me. But now that vow lay in the ground, its words broken like bones as it withered and died. And here I lay, having just came, my breaths coming in pants as another man held me from behind. I wanted to kill myself.

"You're wonderful," he murmured into my ear. "Absolutely wonderful."

"Shut up," I hissed. "Can't you do it _without_ talking…?"

"I could," he allowed. "But that'd be so...boring..." His tongue trailed up my neck. I threw my head back as he nibbled on a spot beneath my ear that he just loved to abuse. "I love hearing your voice, Senpai. It's beautiful."

His arms looped under mine, and simultaneously he assaulted both nipples and my neck's sensitive spot. Powerless to resist, I whimpered and whined like a helpless animal. This fucker...why was he so damn elated? Why did he take pleasure from my suffering? Why was he so sadistic? Why did...why did he make me feel so helpless…?

"See? You do like it. You just don't want to admit it."

I tried to gather the words required to hiss out a reply, but none came to me. Only those helpless, needy, _weak_ sounds.

"But why?" he continued. He released the pinch he had on my nipples, and instantly coldness set in where his fingers once were. Slowly words trickled into my mouth, but I knew he wasn't finished with his inquiries. "Why is it so hard for you to tell me what you want?"

"I _have_ told you what I want." The response dripped from my lips like acid.

"Really? When?"

"A few minutes ago."

"No, you didn't," he denied.

"Yes, I did."

"Really? What is it that you said you wanted, then?"

"I...it... _not this_ …!"

He sighed but didn't fall silent. "But you're reacting like _this_. And you've _been_ reacting like this for months. You always come when I touch you, even if you scream for me to stop while it happens. Why?"

"That's...of course that'll happen if you touch it…"

"Oh, I see." He snickered quietly. "So you get like this because you're being stimulated."

I nodded. He was finally understanding! Praise everything divine in and above this world!

"Well, if that's the case, would you get like this with anyone who touched you? Even if you didn't know who they were?"

"Of course not! It's just because it's you!" I snapped. Immediately after my tongue turned to ice. That hadn't...I hadn't...there was no way…

Even Morinaga went silent at that, though those moments were short-lived. "You...because it's _me_?"

His words brimmed with hope, and that was enough to melt my tongue. "I didn't...I didn't mean it like that. It's because...I'm obligated to."

"Obligated? Who's obligating you to do this?"

"You are!"

"Oh? And what am I holding against you?"

"The slavery." Gods, he could build a city out of his stupidity alone!

"Really?" Rather than the light, teasing tone he'd possessed before, a flat edge lined his voice. "Do you honestly think that?"

I hesitated for a few moments before replying, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." In an instant our positions shifted, with me laying facedown and Morinaga positioned above me. He held my wrists above my head, and despite my protests, he didn't let go. He descended slowly, his broad, hard body molding against my own. All protests ceased when I felt something warm and excruciatingly hard graze my ass. While I was completely bare, he still had underwear on. He may as well have been naked, though; that's how it felt.

"Do you honestly believe that the slavery's the reason why you let me do this? Because I honestly believe that both of us know that's complete bullshit." His words stabbed my heart; was it that obvious…? "If that was the reason, you'd be fighting harder than you do now. But instead you're submitting. Your body is, anyway."

"That's—"

"It's _not_ because of stimulation," he growled. "You'd struggle and fight and stab and kill in order to get out of this. You and I both know that. But instead you're letting me do these things to you, and while you're protesting, you're not struggling. Even though you claim to despise 'my kind' and everything associated with us, you let me inside of you. You let me _come_ inside of you."

I fisted my hands in the sheets. Resistance left my body like cowardly soldiers retreating from battle, and with each passing second I felt myself weaken. Everything he'd said was true. I would've killed anyone who tried to do this to me. But he...he was...different. Special. Something about him set him apart from everyone else I'd met. He liked clinging to me, like a puppy. Usually I despised such clinginess, always associating it with weakness. And while I did dislike that about him, I didn't hate him.

But I did hate his kind. I hated abominations like him. I hated people who thought they could do whatever they wanted and it wouldn't affect anyone else. He never took any of my feelings into account whenever he did shit like this. It was always ' _I_ want you' or ' _I_ want to do it' or ' _I_ love you.' It was never 'Do _you_ want to do it?' And even if it was, he never listened. If I said no, he did it anyway. If I protested, he did it anyway. It wasn't worth trying to compromise anymore. He always got what _he_ wanted, and I was left with nothing. I resented him and everything that he stood for.

Then why was I so hard?!

"What do you want from me?" I whispered.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"You heard me. What do you want from me? Pleasure? Affection? Love?"

His voice softened considerably, almost sounding vulnerable. "Well, to be honest...acceptance. I can't change the fact that you're not naturally attracted to men, nor can I make you love me. But...you can at least let me in."

"Aren't you just going to force your way in anyway?"

"No, not that way. Though that _would_ be appreciated… Anyway, I want you to let me into your heart. You've been shutting me out every time I try to get close to you. All I want to do is get to know you better. I don't just want your body. I want your heart, too." He kissed my ear and murmured softly, "I love you."

"Shut up!" I shouted. "You're lying! There's no way—"

"I'm not Ikasma," he interrupted. "I'm not going to betray you the way he did. Do you really think that I would've saved you from execution if I didn't care about you?"

"I...I don't…"

"Let me ask this," he suggested. "All this time we've been discussing what _I_ want. But you already know what I want. What about you? What do _you_ want?"

I clenched my teeth, pinched my eyes shut, and steeled my nerves. I willed myself to speak. I wanted to tell him things. Honestly, I did. But I couldn't. I didn't know what to say. I'd been keeping everything inside for so long...there was no way I could tell him what I wanted. Not when this environment was foreign territory.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

It was a simple question, but for reasons that I couldn't decipher, it made my heart skip a few beats. He was a despicable human for doing all of this. For being so selfish and inconsiderate and bastardly...but still…


	14. Chapter 14

_Yes,_ he'd said. _I want you to stay with me_.

All at once I melted, heart and soul, when those words reached my ears. It was a soft touch that they had on me, gently and tentatively spoken. I was above him, but it felt as if he'd whispered that affirmation into my ear. He wouldn't have done so, of course, regardless of our position. Not yet, anyway. Still, the impact they had on me was unparalleled by any phrase I'd ever heard.

After hearing those words there was no way I could control myself. I plunged into him with full force, my head swimming in a whirlpool of desire and euphoria. His scream only sent me deeper into the whirlpool, until I was completely lost in the lovely sounds he managed to produce. Shockwaves rippled through me with every thrust, and soon enough the thin dam holding back my emotions ruptured. A tsunami of pleasure rushed forth and erupted into him, filling his insides with every ounce of my love.

Even now, two weeks later, standing in the catacombs, I still shuddered when I thought of that night. He cared about me. He wanted to be with me. And even if it was only one percent as much as I did, he loved me. Enough that he trusted me with his life.

We'd gone over our route a few times in the days before, ensuring that everything was memorized without issue. I'd also planted the weapons I'd acquired within a barricade, the same place where I'd release the bombs. From there, Souichi and I would continue with our escape. Initially I'd thought that he would've been taken away in the morning, but the guards had waited until around eight at night to take him away. As Souichi had predicted, I'd been allowed to escort him down to the catacombs, but the guards with him had told me to go back after we'd reached a certain point. I obeyed, of course. However, they never specified how far back I had to go, so after turning a corner, I followed stealthily behind.

The barricade came into view, and instantly I sprung into action. I'd already put on the mask that would guard me from being affected by the gas, and I'd placed one on Souichi earlier to act as a gag. Withdrawing the bombs and matches from a hidden pocket in my cloak, I struck the sticks and lit the end of one bomb. As the fuse started to sizzle, I peered out from behind the corner. Souichi's head turned my way, and though the gesture was subtle, I saw him nod. I waited a few moments, letting the fuse shrink further, then tossed the bomb down the hallway. In midair the gas released, enveloping the space in a purple cloud. The force of four guarding Souichi made to put the masks formerly around their necks on their mouths, but by the time they'd tied them, they were already on the floor.

Once I was sure they were asleep, I left my hiding place and joined Souichi at the barricade. I rooted through the guards' belongings until I found a ring of keys, the largest of which I stuck into the hole on his restraints. A twist later two sets of chains lay on the ground, his wrists and ankles now free. In silent urgency we removed the weapons planted in the barricade, and after strapping everything on, we embarked on our escape route.

We darted through the dimly-lit halls, our pace consistent until we reached the first barricade. It was of weak construction, typical of ones located in the middle regions of the catacombs. Worms crawled about the holes pockmarking the rotten wood, the beams of which were bent to the point of nearly cracking. I pulled down my mask, knowing we were far enough away from the gas to remain unaffected.

"How should we do this?" I asked.

Souichi pulled his mask down as well. "Kick it?" he suggested.

"Will it work?"

Experimentally he grabbed a beam and pulled. Moments later it snapped, sending splinters and bugs flying into the air. "Yeah," he affirmed. "It'll work."

Our booted feet assaulted the rotted beams, powerless to resist our superior force. A few rats emerged from their hiding places the more the boards disappeared, and I was fully confident that their feces had been used as an adhesive in place of nails.

I lifted my foot to deliver another kick, but Souichi grabbed my wrist and tugged me through the hole we'd created before I could. With a cry I stumbled forward, luckily catching myself before I landed in a mound of shit. "What're you doing?!"

"Are you deaf?" he hissed. Without waiting for me to fully recover he started running again.

Standing upright and dusting myself off, I followed. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

I groaned under my breath. Times like these almost made me doubt my feelings. But then I remembered just how sweet he could be…

"Could you elaborate?" I requested.

He didn't reply, instead continuing down the hallway. Frustration festered in my heart like an infection in an open wound. My eyes narrowed, and my fists clenched. Harshly I growled, "Souichi, don't—"

He grabbed my shirt before I could finish, and forcibly he tossed me to the nearest wall. My head cracked against the stone, sending sharp pain rattling in my skull. A grunt left my lips, and a string of obscenities prepared to leave my mouth. A hand on my mouth shoved the curses back inside.

"Shut up," Souichi whispered. "Listen."

So I fell silent, our respective breaths the only audible noises that hung in the air. I couldn't help but blush at our positions. He wasn't sitting in my lap, but the way he hovered over it, he may as well have been. Parts of his body pressed against my own, particularly in the middle of his groin. Had it not been for the shouts of guards echoing behind us, I would've tried to explore this contact a little further. Even if Souichi thought otherwise most of the time, I wasn't stupid. Well, I wasn't _that_ stupid.

I tried to ask him something, but it came out as muffled grumbles. He pulled his hand away. "How far away?" I whispered again.

"Two halls back if we're lucky," he replied. Souichi rose, and I felt a little sadness at the lack of his touch. "So get off your ass and keep moving."

"You threw me on it in the first place," I mumbled as I stood.

* * *

I wanted to scream to the heavens and open up the sky in a storm of destruction and calamity, but since that would only give us away, I swung and cracked my knuckles across Morinaga's face. His head whipped to the side, and I was fairly confident that I'd broken the skin. It was as dark and unused as a homeless person's anus, but there was just enough light that I could see something splatter onto the wall next to him. Whether it was saliva or blood I didn't know, but I did know that if I would've aimed lower I probably could've sent his teeth down his throat.

"What the _hell_ was that for?!" he shouted. Fire burned in his eyes, and based on the darkness trickling out from under the hand holding his cheek, my suspicions were correct.

"Shut up," I hissed at him. "You're loud."

"Why'd you hit me?!" He still shouted it, but at least it was a whispered shout.

"Because it kept me from stabbing you." I pointed at the barricade in front of us, made of solid stone. "We're trapped."

Morinaga was a man who had little control over his emotions, so naturally I expected him to share if not exceed my dismay. But instead, he scowled. Half-heartedly, but he still scowled.

He approached the barricade with a sense of purpose circling about him. After touching a few of the blocks, his hand settled on one to the right. Force flowed from his arm and into the block, which slowly but noticeably slid out from its spot. With a grunt he gave a final, slightly more effortful push, and a thud sounded from the other side of the barricade.

I shared his flat gaze when he turned it on me. "You're sure we're trapped?"

Now I scowled. "I was supposed to know that how?"

"By checking." Once again he turned to the barricade, particularly the space around the block he'd already pushed out. The one below seemed loose as well, based on the way it wriggled around as he pushed, but it was wedged in enough that he couldn't release it on his own.

"Move over," I instructed. Despite his newfound bitchiness, he moved over enough for the small space to accommodate me. I pushed with him, and instantly I found why he struggled so much on his own.

"Where'd they go?" a voice shouted from behind.

"Shit," Morinaga mumbled. "This isn't working…!"

"I have an idea." I scooted back from the block and pressed my foot against it. "It'll go better if we kick."

"You're sure?"

"Do you really think there's time for you to question me?" I snarled.

With a somewhat depressing sound of affirmation, he placed his boot beside mine. We counted in unison up to three, then simultaneously struck the block. As I'd predicted, it jerked back.

"Again," I ordered.

Again we counted, again we kicked, and again the block moved. Two more of these processes and the block came completely free. He made to check another block, but I grabbed his arm before he even skim the stones.

"There's no time," I told him. "They can't be far behind us."

He stared at the space we'd created, then looked back at me. "Are you sure that's enough?"

"It'll have to be." The blocks weren't particularly small, but the space wasn't particularly large enough for my liking. "I'll go through first, since I'm smaller." And if the guards caught up with us, at least I'd be able to get out alive. Morinaga could join later if he truly wanted to, though I still didn't like the idea of putting him in danger when he'd done nothing excessively wrong.

"Wait," he said.

"What now?" I groaned. I already crouched before the hole, ready to crawl through.

"Put your mask back on," he instructed. "If they catch up I'll release the other bomb."

"And if they're wearing masks, too?"

"Do we really have time to worry about that?" he retorted.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't hit him again. Not only would it have wasted time, he would've also probably been knocked unconscious. I could've carried him on my shoulders, but I preferred to have him well enough to at least travel through the hole by himself. I obeyed his order and slipped my mask back on.

Either I was smaller than I'd realized or the hole was bigger than it seemed, because I found little struggle with making my way through. Concrete scratched my shoulders and sides, and whenever light befell us again, I was sure I'd find my clothing torn and skin scraped. But none of that mattered now. What did matter was that I stood up before the rats could eat my face. The nearest lantern hung a few yards away, but beady eyes glanced up from their crumbs and sex as I moved through. Little feet scurried across the stone and toward me, but before their claws or teeth could sink into my flesh, I stood upright. Easier than I expected.

Frustratingly, the same didn't apply to Morinaga. He made it halfway through before I heard footsteps thud toward the barricade. There was no physical way for me nor him to retrieve the second bomb, and even if we could, there wasn't any way to throw it back. Before the smell of shit in this space could grow stronger, I grabbed his hands and pulled.

"Get through," I growled through clenched teeth.

"I can't!" Morinaga denied.

"Bullshit! You're just not trying hard enough!" Even if I had his arms erect, he could still move himself with his legs or propel himself with the rest of his body. His stupidity truly knew no bounds.

Despite all his doubt, he made it through. The dark couldn't mask his injuries, far greater and far more abundant than my own. A fresh cut streaked across his forehead, and blood trickled down his face. It didn't look too severe, but wounds to the head always bled more severely than others.

"Throw the other bomb," I ordered. "Now!" My shout echoed throughout the hall, and a few rats screeched in response, as if to outdo me. Foolish rats; I was the king of shouting.

Too slowly for my liking but probably as quickly as he could possibly go, Morinaga lit the other bomb and tossed it through the hole. By some magical or divine force our minds synced, and at the same time we crouched to replace the blocks. I couldn't lie, I was impressed. Despite all the bitchiness and dismay and anxiety the situation provided to him, he had a respectable amount of common sense in him.

It took a bit of time, and even when the blocks were back in they were crooked and visibly loose. But it would do for now, especially considering what had happened on the other side of the barricade. Even if the guards were unaffected by the gas and just momentarily stunned, they'd need to either tear down the barricade or go a completely different route to find us.

The only other route available would've taken them the whole way around the western half of the catacombs, a ten-minute journey even if they ran. If they took that route I didn't know, nor did I really care. By the time ten minutes had passed, Morinaga and I had reached the final barricade. The wood composing it exceeded the strength of the first one, enough that we only managed to splinter the boards.

"Any matches left?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Three."

"Light it," I ordered. "That's the only way we're getting through."

I expected him to question the dangers of sparking a fire in such a small space, but a glint in his eye told me he understood. After a quick strike, he threw the match into the barricade. A beast of flame emerged seemingly from nothing, and it ate away at the barricade's powerless form. Smoke enveloped the space, and though we still wore our masks, both of us fell victim to an intense coughing fit.

I endured for a few minutes longer, and the moment I heard the barricade collapse, I grabbed Morinaga's wrist and pulled him through the flaming barricade. Tiny needles of smoke burned and stung our eyes, and a thick haze of blackness twisted and addled all thoughts in my head. We made it somewhat of a safe distance away from the fire before stumbling. I crumpled onto my side, tripping over either a rock or a rat, and landed with a hacked grunt. Morinaga tripped as well—probably over me—but managed to catch himself before he could cover me. Warmth enveloped me, and I couldn't tell if it was from the nearby fire or from Morinaga. It didn't matter too much. Not in this situation, anyway. Otherwise I would've shoved him off.

"You have a knife with you?" I questioned.

He coughed a bit—courteously he moved his head away from me—before replying, "Yeah. Why?"

"Do you—" I hacked as smoke clamped its suffocating hands around my neck. "—need it?"

"I don't...think so."

"Throw it in the fire."

"Why?"

"They'll think we died in the fire. At least for a little."

"All right." Metal slid against leather, then it clattered across the stone until it landed—hopefully—close enough to the fire to imply death.

"Morinaga."

"Huh?"

"Get off."

He tensed, and hastily he stood from me. "S-Sorry." As if in apology he grabbed my hand and pulled me up. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up," I interrupted. "It didn't hurt, and you didn't fall on me fully." Nodding to the side, I ran as quickly and as straightly as I could away from the fire, Morinaga behind me, not stopping until we emerged from the catacombs into the embrace of cool night air.


	15. Chapter 15

The next time we encountered fire, it didn't exist to cover our tracks or threaten our lives in any form. Instead, it kept our levels of discomfort low and our levels of warmth high. Time crawled toward spring, but the vengeful chill of winter lingered bitterly in the air. But the kindhearted fire fought with that bitter cold, keeping it away from us.

After escaping the smoky deathtrap we'd created in the catacombs, Souichi and I found ourselves about a fourth of a mile outside the palace. By keeping our masks on and concealing Souichi's braid, we managed to blend into the criminal-laden thoroughfare without much issue. We walked to avoid excessive suspicion, but I didn't think it would've mattered. People still stared at us, and I didn't completely blame them. Our clothes had been torn from crawling through the hole, and parts of them had even been eaten by flame. I didn't know about Souichi, but I had a cut on the top of my forehead that had dripped down my face ever since I received it. No one said a word, though. They probably figured that we'd been in a fight of some sort. In a sense, they were right.

The moment we left the city gates, we bolted.

My lungs protested following the first few steps, but my mind and the rest of my body protested louder. Each stride killed me just a little more than the last, but I didn't care. We needed to leave, to get as far away from that city as possible. I tore through the forest without any regard for the safety of animals or myself. I was fairly confident I'd crushed the skulls of two squirrels and crippled another. Souichi shared my mentality, to the point that I had to steady him before he could fall directly atop a pile of prickly vines and slice himself open more than he already had.

In all honesty, I probably could've run until the morning sun peeked its head above the horizon. But my lungs' protesting had grown progressively louder with the passing of time. When it reached the point that my legs kept moving but no air entered my lungs, I couldn't ignore my needs anymore. Though I had the motivation in me to run five more miles, I forced myself to stop.

My legs gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto the ground in a crumple of wheezing and suffering. It was as if we'd never left the smoking catacombs, though I knew that they had to be long behind us by now. Everything hurt. My heart strained to keep itself from bursting out of my chest; my legs throbbed as if they'd been beaten with lead pipes; worst of all, my lungs felt as if they were being constricted, asphyxiated, choked, squeezed, burned, and covered in acid, all at the same time.

Through all the pounding in my head, my ears managed to pick up the sound of slowing footsteps. Initially they moved away from me, then they moved toward me. A presence crouched beside me.

"Hey," Souichi panted. "You alive?"

Even if I wanted to speak, I wouldn't have been able to. My vocal cords had no will left in them. I nodded as much as I could, unsure if he even saw me. Based on the heat of his body, he partially leaned over me, but I was curled on my side and bunched up like a turtle within its shell.

"Think you can get up any time soon?"

I shook my head vehemently.

He sighed, but it didn't sound wholly disappointed. He was probably exhausted, too, but he was probably more used to running than I was. He'd been forced to do so for years, after all.

"All right. We can camp here for now, then."

When I managed to sit up, I found a fire burning atop wood and Souichi sitting back against a tree.

"You're up," he commented. "Good. I was starting to think that you'd be like that for hours."

"How long—" I coughed a few times. "—have I been laying here?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. Five, ten minutes? Something like that."

"Oh. Sorry for worrying you."

"It's fine," he assured. "I didn't think you'd die that easily. You're in decent shape, after all. For a royal."

I smiled faintly; if that was his attempt at praise, I'd gladly take it. "I was never fond of laying around and doing nothing."

"Good. You'll need legitimate strength if you want to survive out here long."

I nodded. "I understand."

"Do you?" he asked.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

He turned his head away from me, and for a moment I thought I saw him blink back tears. But that was probably just post-fire-survival delirium. "This isn't going to be an easy thing," he said. Now it sounded like he was moments away from crying. Why was he saddened? "You're going to have to change. A lot."

"I know. I knew that from the start."

He looked back at me, disbelief glinting in his pretty eyes. "So you're willing to turn criminal, then? You're willing to kidnap and torture and _kill_ in order to save yourself?"

I sighed and scooted closer to him. "I'll try to avoid those things as much as I can. But if it comes to having to kill someone...I'm willing if it means saving myself. Or you."

"Tch." He looked away again. "Don't go killing people for my sake. Do it for your own."

"Why wouldn't I do it for your sake? I love you, after all." I smiled at him. "I'll die for your sake, too, if it comes to it."

"I don't want you to," he spat. "It's not necessary to put yourself at risk because of me. I can take care of myself."

Despite his harsh tone and the dark sky above us, I saw redness start to form on his cheeks. I smiled. "I know you can protect yourself. You're resourceful and knowledgeable and extremely strong." I leaned over and pecked his cheek, my smile widening at the warmth touching my lips. "But most of all, you're considerate, even if you don't show it a lot. That's why I love you."

"Shut up," he mumbled.

I laughed under my breath. "Aw, don't get embarrassed. No one's around. Besides, even if they were, I wouldn't mind." His head whipped my way, allowing me full view of his adorably embarrassed face. I cupped his cheek and pressed my forehead to his. "I'm not ashamed of anything."

"You—"

I silenced him with a kiss before he could say a word. My heart fluttered, not just from the kiss, but from the environment we kissed in. We were free. Both of us. Free from persecution, free from judgment, free from anyone telling us no. And it didn't stop today. It'd be like this every day, until something physically stopped us. But I wouldn't let that happen. Not when it could be helped.

I pulled back and smiled. "I love you."

A second later I lay on the ground with intense throbbing in my skull.

"I hate you," he grumbled.

I sat up and smiled at Souichi, now against a tree on the other side of the fire. I could get used to this.

"Hey," he called. I tilted my head to the side in question. "You...you're not as bad as I thought you'd be. So...thanks for not being useless."

The chuckles that followed his words couldn't stay in my throat. "You're welcome."

Correction: I could _definitely_ get used to this.


End file.
